


Company Man

by Absolute_Zero88



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Drama, F/M, Injury, Mission Fic, Romance, Sexual Tension, Turkfic, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-13
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2017-10-27 07:13:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 99,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Absolute_Zero88/pseuds/Absolute_Zero88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during and after the Advent Children storyline, Tseng is torn between company loyalty and his feelings for a certain female Turk.  Their capture by the Remnants brings things to a head but is it enough to make the Turk leader have a change of heart? Rating upgraded to Mature to account for adult themes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, as much as I'd like to, I do not own any of the Final Fantasy characters in this story; that pleasure belongs to Squaresoft / Square Enix. All work is non-profit.
> 
> Whilst the story takes place during and after the Advent Chilren storyline, the focus is primarily on things going on between Tseng and Elena than on the AC plot itself. Comments are always welcome and appreciated.
> 
> [Contains moderate violence, some rather less moderate language and occasional, not overly explicit sexual references]
> 
> * * *

_"What happened yesterday evening... was a mistake. It was unprofessional of me and it won't happen again."_

_"Tseng, you-"_

_"No, Elena. I mean it; I'm not interested, never will be. Now I suggest you concentrate on the retrieval mission in the Northern Crater."_

_-x-_

Tseng blinked, trying to clear his vision. He didn't need his eyes to tell him that he was sitting on something cold and hard, his hands bound behind his back. Or that the intermittent choking sounds coming from somewhere nearby belonged to Elena. In between her coughing and spluttering Tseng could hear what sounded like water; as though someone was thrashing around violently. Water torture, he thought, mentally chastising himself for being so slow. It must have been the blow to the head one of the silver-haired men had dealt him back at the crater. Which begged the question of where they were now. The more he blinked, the more his eyes stung. Blood, he thought. Getting blood in his eyes wasn't something he was completely unfamiliar with.

"Where is Mother?" someone shouted. A male voice, fraught with desperation. They were in the same room; Tseng could tell that much from the acoustics. And, gradually, he was also able to pick out changes in light that suggested someone was moving.

"Ugh..." Elena mumbled, coughing some more. Tseng felt concern for her spike in his chest suddenly, remembering that she had been shot. He had gone back for her and that was when the three men had descended upon them both. Reno had got away with the fleshy, repulsive lump that seemed to be part of Jenova's head. And then he remembered the row he had had with Elena only that morning; the kiss they had shared the night before.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed vaguely, followed by a dull yelp. And then again, this time more muffled, like a fist or a foot being driven into someone's gut. They were beating her. As Tseng's vision cleared somewhat, the sound of thrashing water resumed.

After a few more minutes, Tseng could see well enough to make out each of the three Sephiroth look-alikes, and the sight of Elena, her hands bound behind her back with black industrial tape as the bulkiest of the three held her head down into a trough filled with water. He was sitting close enough to see irregular chunks of ice floating in the dark depths. When the figure holding Elena's head and shoulders under the water brought her into an upright kneeling position once more, the shortest of the three grabbed her chin.

"Tell us, or he'll drown you next time," he threatened, his voice calm and controlled, yet somehow infinitely menacing. Elena didn't reply and averted her eyes. As the bulky one holding her drew her back by the neck, ready to plunge her into the trough again, Tseng couldn't remain silent any longer.

"She's a junior Turk; she doesn't know anything," he interrupted, managing to keep his voice level and devoid of any emotion.

"But you, on the other hand, should know," the short one replied, still looking at Elena. "You are the most senior Turk, after all," he added, pivoting elegantly on his heel to face Tseng. "So here's how it's going to be: Loz here will continue to hurt her until you start talking."

"What makes you think I care what you do to her?" Tseng threw back, his gaze as cold as the northern air in the room, which was more akin to a warehouse or some sort of garage than it was to a room. The ceiling was high and afternoon sunlight filtered through large, rectangular and mildew-covered windows. The faded Shinra logo stamped on the panel of the door made Tseng wonder if the three had coveted an old company observation base, located somewhere between the City of the Ancients and the Northern Crater. _Hojo and his budget-violating requests,_ Tseng thought bitterly. _This godforsaken place wouldn't even have been built if he hadn't kicked up such fuss about potential volcanic activity in the Crater._

"Why would you go back to help her if you didn't care? A man as ruthless as you're pretending to be would have put his own safety first."

Tseng locked his jaw, which sent waves of pain across the left side of his face. "Competent Turks are hard to come by," he said quietly. "But not completely irreplaceable," he added, his eyes meeting Elena's. She wasn't facing him properly, with Loz still gripping her around the back of her neck. Her hazel eyes were tired and glassy and she was completely soaked from her shoulders up. A mixture of blood and water trickled down her pale skin. His eyes flicked to her torso, almost afraid of what he might see. They had stripped her of her blazer, making it easier to see the bullet wound in the upper right side of her chest, not far below her collar bone. At least it didn't appear to be bleeding too badly. As he looked away once more, struggling to swallow the suffocating feeling of guilt and helplessness that swept over him, he caught sight of her blazer lying discarded on the floor a few metres away.

"Loz."

"Yes, Kadaj?"

"Continue."

Loz grinned as he forced Elena's head into the trough once more. For a while, she remained relatively still but the longer he held her under the more she began to struggle. After at least a good minute had passed, Loz wrenched her upwards. Elena coughed and gasped for air, only for Loz to thrust her head into the water again as quickly as he had pulled her out.

Tseng wondered how long Elena would last before she either started talking or passed out. In the very same moment he felt annoyed that such thoughts crossed his mind; this was the woman who, only a few hours previously, had taken a bullet for him, saving his life; the woman who had proved more than once that she was as capable a Turk as any other; the woman he had been yearning for since the Temple of the Ancients.

Turks received training in how to deal with various torture methods as part of their standard initiation. The reality, however, was quite different. In training, the idea that your instructor might kill you was unlikely. When it was for real, the possibility of having to endure a slow and painful death became more of a certainty. Tseng had known high-ranking members of Soldier to falter when captured and tortured.

"You could end all of this, you know," a soft, smooth voice uttered into his ear. Kadaj and Loz were still busy trying to drown an answer out of Elena, leaving Tseng to assume that it was the tallest and most elegant of the three who had spoken. He was standing behind Tseng, bending over slightly so that his mouth was just about level with Tseng's ear. "Kadaj won't give up - and he'll make you watch. And if he can't get Loz to make her talk, he'll turn her over to me. All you have to do is tell us where Mother is... And we know you know."

Tseng said nothing. Silence was usually the best policy, for it didn't allow the torturer to build up any sort of conversation from which he might be able to infer information.

"Suit yourself."

Elena felt herself fading. Whether it was the cold or the lack of oxygen, or a combination of both, she wasn't sure. _What makes you think I care what you do to her... Junior Turk... Not completely irreplaceable..._ Tseng's words echoed around her mind as Loz held her under for what might have been the tenth time. She had lost count. And somewhere amongst it all, the question of whether she was really prepared to die for Shinra kept on presenting itself over and over.

Elena had always wanted to make something of herself. At one stage, that had simply meant succeeding in her Shinra career, regardless of the rift it had caused between herself and her parents. Her sister had been a Turk, years ago. She was also one of the only ones to ever have quit the occupation, deciding that it wasn't the life she wanted in the long run, and that ultimately she did not care enough about the company to be able to fulfil the duties of a Turk. _Do I care enough to do this? Or maybe it isn't even a about being a so-called 'company man'... It's about having nothing else._

Loz yanked her head up and out of the trough, this time letting go of her completely so that she keeled over and lay in a wet heap on the floor. Elena coughed, wincing as her sore lungs protested. She caught sight of Tseng sitting tied to a metal chair only a few metres away. Blood stained the left side of his face and there were spatters all over the front of his shirt, visible through the open front of his uniform blazer. Despite how much he had hurt her, she felt concerned for him; she couldn't turn her feelings on and off like a tap, and she consoled herself that he must have cared at least a little to have come back for her after making it to the helicopter with the container. He could just as easily have left her. It crossed her mind that the trio could do worse to him, since he was the head of the Turks and knew practically all of Shinra's secrets. But nothing seemed certain with these three.

"One more chance, Elena," Kadaj said, almost sweetly. He crouched down beside her and cocked his head to one side, his immortal green eyes devouring her body. "And don't bet on him coming to your rescue," he added, jerking his head briefly in Tseng's direction. Elena turned her face away from him, reasoning that it would be more sensible to say nothing rather than anything that wasn't what Kadaj wanted to hear. "Yazoo, it's your turn. I'll leave you boys to have fun whilst I pay the President a visit. After all, I imagine that's where Mother is."

Kadaj ran a gloved finger over Elena's cheek before rising to his feet and heading for the door. "I know I can trust you two to do whatever it takes to get them talking." Loz grinned as the door to the warehouse-like room swung closed after his brother.

"Time to try something else, I think," Yazoo mused, considering Elena. "Grab her ankles," he muttered to Loz, who seemed a little puzzled by the command. Nevertheless, he gripped Elena's ankles and used them to lift her off the floor until only her head and shoulders were still in contact with the concrete. She stifled a groan as the bullet wound in her chest throbbed under the pressure.

"I trust that as a Turk, you know what water boarding is," Yazoo mused, picking up the bucket that was beside the trough. "It simulates drowning," he continued casually, plunging the bucket into the trough to fill it. "And if you're unlucky, there is no simulation about it."


	2. Chapter 2

Elena swallowed, finding it hard to breathe with Loz holding her in such an awkward position. She was tempted to beg him not to, to tell him what she knew. But she couldn't. Elena had never been tortured for real and had often imagined that she wouldn't hold out too long; that fear would get the better of her. And she was afraid.

Yazoo looked her straight in the eye as he held the bucket over her, tilting it gradually until water began to spill out and splash onto her face. Due to the angle at which Loz was holding her, the icy water gushed up her nose and straight to the back of her throat. She involuntarily opened her mouth in a bid to breathe but it only made things worse; water filled her mouth no matter how quickly she tried to swallow. The cold stung her eyes and she coughed and choked as Yazoo continued. She writhed in Loz's hold, her bound wrists making things more difficult. Elena tried to kick her way out of his grip but he was too strong and she was weakening quickly. The more she thrashed, the stronger the urge to breathe became.

The torrent stopped suddenly, yet it still took a good few seconds before Elena managed to take a breath. Her chest heaved, making the pain worse, but it seemed irrelevant when she felt as though she were about to suffocate.

"Now, perhaps you might reconsider," Yazoo suggested, raising an eyebrow. He was holding the bucket poised and ready for another round. As he started to tip it, Elena shook her head. She stole a glance over at Tseng, who was sitting with his eyes closed and his head turned vaguely to one side, a frown of deep concentration on his face.

The next round was worse than the first, and seemed to last longer. Or maybe it just felt that way because she was succumbing to the cold and exhaustion. Elena hardly had it in her to struggle anymore. Suddenly Loz's grip on her ankles loosened and her legs and lower body fell to the floor, sending shockwaves through her spine. She coughed feebly, tasting blood in the water that sprayed from her mouth. When she inhaled, her throat and lungs were so raw from the abuse that the bitterly cold air felt more like toxic gas.

"Elena, Elena," Yazoo mockingly soothed, standing over her with his feet either side of her waist. "What are we going to do with you?" He crouched down so that he was poised as if to straddle her. Not yet placing any weight on her, he rested one arm on his thigh as he brushed a wet strand of hair off Elena's forehead. When she turned her face away from him, he placed both his hands to her cheeks and made her look at him, sinking down to sit on the tops of her thighs. "Well, I can think of lots of things I'd like to do to you," he smiled, his eyes ravaging her body. Elena wanted to roll over to relieve the pressure on her arms bound behind her back but it would have been impossible with him straddling her. She could hear her heart pounding in her head as panic began to swell in her chest. Yazoo had an air about him that was more disconcerting than his brothers, and she knew his suggestive behaviour didn't bode well.

"But being the... considerate man that I am, I'll give you another chance." His gaze switched to the bullet wound in her shoulder and he cocked his head. Then, slowly, he trailed his hands lightly down her face, which he had been holding, and to her shoulders, before gradually drifting together and settling on the first button of her sodden blouse. His green, inhuman eyes stared into hers, and she knew then that he had no intention of stopping.

"Loz," he said firmly, jerking his head towards the door. His brother scowled at him briefly, then obediently took the hint and left. "Looks like it's just the three of us. How cosy." Yazoo turned his head to smirk at Tseng, who was visibly red despite the blood on his face. "Oops," Yazoo raised an eyebrow, his smirk intensifying as his fingers undid the button of Elena's blouse they had been working on. His hands moved down to the next one. "There goes another. How forward of me."

"Enough," Tseng muttered, glaring at Yazoo with so much loathing that it was a wonder Yazoo didn't physically evaporate on the spot.

"Why, what are you going to do about it, Turk?" Yazoo asked, further loosening Elena's tie before returning to the buttons, of which there were only three left before he reached the waistband of her trousers.

Elena didn't want to look at Tseng. She hated being so undignified in front of him, even if there was nothing she could do about it. She wasn't angry with him for not telling Yazoo where the brothers' so-called mother was; Turks were Turks. It was more than a day job. It was a way of life. But that didn't stop her trembling with fear at the thought of what Yazoo was about to do, neither did it prevent her knowing that she was powerless to stop him doing to her exactly as he pleased. And Yazoo looked the sadistic sort.

But there was more to it than just being Turks. They were people, too. Even Tseng, who was known for putting his personal feelings second to his duty to Shinra, was human. Elena had caught the occasional glimpse of the man behind the mask; when he would laugh at one of Reno's stupid jokes despite trying to remain composed and professional, or when a mission didn't go to plan and after reeling off the usual line about attention to detail and the virtues of being prepared, his face would soften ever so slightly, as if to say something along the lines of 'don't worry about it, it wasn't your fault - this time'. Or most of all when, yesterday, he had backed her up against the wall of his office and kissed her. It was something Elena had fantasised about like a teenage schoolgirl, although she prided herself on the fact that she had managed to hide it reasonably well.

That morning however, Tseng hardly said two words to her and all but ignored her completely. When she confronted him about it, what he replied had been worse than his silence.

"Well?" Yazoo raised an eyebrow, looking at Tseng. He leaned in on Elena, virtually laying his upper body on hers, then drew back, his hands guiding Elena's blouse open. He smoothed his hands over her skin, venturing upwards towards her bra, still looking at Tseng. "Are you quite sure you have nothing to say? If you were to start cooperating, I might just restrain myself." He laid his hands down on Elena's breasts and she writhed underneath him. Yazoo pushed down harder, leaving his hands where they were.

Tseng resisted the urge to snap at Yazoo, knowing it would indicate he cared more about Elena than he wanted to let on. If Yazoo suspected he had any affection for her, he might not hold back at all until he got an answer out of Tseng. Even as things stood, watching what the three had done to Elena over the past half hour or so had been worse than any physical torture he had endured, and he doubted Yazoo had even got started yet.

"It seems to me like your boss there is going to sit by and watch," Yazoo purred, loudly enough for Tseng to hear. "He can't like you very much to let me have my way with you."

Yazoo reached behind himself suddenly, pulling out one of his two custom pistols. The blade attached to the barrel, forming an unusual sort of bayonet, glinted even in the dim light. He placed its tip against Elena's stomach and began tracing it slowly upwards towards her neck. "Or perhaps _you_ might feel like talking to me if I threaten to shoot him?" He aimed the pistol at Tseng and took aim. Elena opened her mouth to say something when Tseng vigorously shook his head. Yazoo looked mildly amused and lowered his gun. "But you know, on second thoughts, I'm more in the mood for this right now," he reconsidered, grinding his hips against Elena's. "As it's so kindly laid out on a plate for me."

"You really love the sound of your own voice, don't you?" Elena retorted, her voice hoarse.

"I do rather, yes. But I think I like the sound of you screaming just a little more."

He tucked his pistol back into his belt and moved his hands to Elena's waistband, trying to undo her belt. But Elena was having none of it. She brought her knees up as hard as she could, succeeding in hitting Yazoo in the lower back. He lost his balance for a moment, falling forwards onto her upper body once more, but resumed working at her waistband as he clasped his other hand over her mouth. Elena struggled under him, twisting her body this way and that in a bid to stop him despite how futile it seemed. Yazoo grunted, beginning to get frustrated. As Elena jerked her head harshly to one side, his fingers lost their grip on her mouth. She took her chance and bit down hard on his index finger.

Yazoo yelled in pain, trying to pull away from her but Elena didn't let go. "Fucking bitch!" he ranted, his face contorted in pain. Managing to free his other hand that had been trying to undo Elena's trousers from between their bodies, he drew his fist back and slammed it down into the bullet wound on the upper right side of her chest. Elena screamed as the dull, throbbing ache turned into agonising pain. Even from his position across the room, Tseng was able to see that the wound began to ooze blood once more. Yazoo recoiled his bleeding hand as Elena's jaw went slack, his expression murderous.

Still furious, Yazoo raised his fist again and hit her face with such force that blood gushed from her nose and her lip split. Just like Sephiroth, his strength was beyond that of any human.

"Stop!" Tseng shouted, unable to rein his anger in anymore. But Yazoo ignored him, pressing his forearm down on Elena's throat as he shifted himself into a better position, clearly intent on not giving up. Although dazed and in excruciating pain, Elena jerked one knee up and plunged it between his legs. Yazoo growled through clenched teeth and lashed out at her again, striking Elena's face a second time. He did so with such vigour that he knocked her unconscious.

Elena lay motionless under Yazoo, who was still sitting astride her. Yazoo paused a moment, his face suggesting that he hadn't foreseen Elena resisting him to the extent that she had. He considered his bleeding finger for a moment, an expression of almost childlike bewilderment on his face. It was bent awkwardly at the middle joint, and appeared broken.

"You're going to pay for that," he muttered bitterly, this time reaching for his own belt buckle. Tseng's eyes widened in horror as he realised that Yazoo clearly still intended to rape her.

"Get off her," Tseng said quietly, but in a tone that reeked of a threat. He tested his binds, already aware that his legs and feet were not strapped to the chair. There was a chance that he'd be able to stagger his way over to Yazoo even if his upper body was bound securely to the chair. He knew that Yazoo would ultimately overpower him but it had to be worth a try for Elena's sake.

"Unless you have anything helpful to say, shut up," Yazoo replied sourly, struggling with his belt due to his impaired finger.

Tseng had always trusted himself to keep his emotions under wraps and execute the utmost self-control. Even when it came to Aeris, whom he had cared about more than he wanted to admit at the time. And yet he had sold her out to Shinra; to Professor Hojo of all people. But, without even really thinking things through as was true to his usual style, Tseng found himself moving awkwardly forward towards Yazoo and Elena, hoping at least to distract Yazoo for long enough so that he might change course.

Yazoo glanced up as Tseng approached, knees bent to accommodate the chair he was tied to. Given his position on top of Elena's unconscious form, it proved difficult for him to get to his feet. When he realised his plan of action was taking too long, he reached automatically for his pistols but hissed in pain as he forgot to mind his injured finger, and that was all the advantage Tseng needed. For now, at least.

Upon drawing close enough to Yazoo, Tseng swung round sharply, overbalancing but nonetheless succeeding in catching Yazoo in the ribs with the metal legs of the chair. Yazoo's body veered to one side with the impact and he stumbled inelegantly away from Elena, regaining his balance at the very last moment before he could fall over completely. His face formed a scowl reminiscent of Loz's and without a moment's pause, charged at Tseng. Tseng knew he didn't have the freedom of movement to evade him, so instead turned his back on Yazoo just as the silver-haired man was upon him, resulting in Yazoo all but impaling himself on the chair legs. The Remant released a frustrated growl and threw a graceful yet powerful kick directly at Tseng's abdomen, knocking the Turk over with a grunt. Despite having come up against Sephiroth in the past, Yazoo's strength was still unbelievable to him.

Once down, Tseng knew it was unlikely he would be able to scramble up again; the chair made it virtually impossible. Yazoo was looming over him, having finally managed to draw out one of his pistols. He crouched down beside Tseng and held the tip of the bayonet against Tseng's throat.

"Perhaps I underestimated you…" Yazoo mused, moving the blade downwards, past Tseng's chest and towards his stomach. "Your stupidity, anyway. Now where was it our dear brother got you?" he cocked his head, tracing vague circles around Tseng's navel before tucking the knife's tip in between the buttons and slicing the shirt open. Tseng bit his jaws together hard, seeing Sephiroth's face reflected in Yazoo's.

His blood stained shirt fell open to reveal a faint scar that spanned from just below the right side of his ribcage diagonally down to just past his navel. Yazoo delicately dragged the blade over his skin and Tseng had to fight to hold it together. Never had he accepted himself as being 'traumatised'; that was a phrase reserved for other people. Tseng had seen and endured many things, even before his time as a Turk, and had thus become something of a pro at compartmentalising his less pleasant experiences into some far corner of his memory. But Sephiroth had mortally wounded him and never before had Tseng felt so powerless as when faced with the former Soldier. And now here he was again with Yazoo.

The sound of a phone ringing broke the tension between the two men. Yazoo remained stock still for a moment, then reached into his pocket and took out his phone. He held it to his ear without a word, his knife still pressing against Tseng.

"What, now?" he said, after a few moments. "All right, I'm coming. But are you sure it's a good idea that Loz and I both come?"

Another pause, and Yazoo blinked slowly, sighing. "Of course, brother. We'll be there soon." Yazoo snapped the lid of his phone shut and placed it back into his pocket with the same finesse that seemed to accompany his every move. He retracted his pistol and smiled villainously. "Seems like it's your lucky day. For now." Yazoo rose to his feet but remained beside Tseng. "I have somewhere to be – but we'll be back, so don't go running away." Tseng knew not to breathe a sigh of relief just yet, and was proved right when Yazoo raised the hand wielding his pistol and drove it down into the side of Tseng's head, knocking him out cold.


	3. Chapter 3

_-x-_

/Yesterday/

_"Reno," Tseng muttered, his eyes darting briefly to the door. Reno raised an eyebrow and shrugged. He was sitting at his desk in the office the Turks shared in Healin Lodge, his feet up on the table with a smouldering cigarette in his left hand. Tseng's gaze intensified slightly as he jerked his head in the direction of the door, repeating the hint. Reno sighed, then reluctantly swung his legs round to place his feet heavily on the floor. His eyes flicked over to Elena, who was sitting at the desk directly opposite Tseng's. Her expression was grim and she had been staring vacantly at the screen of her now sleeping laptop for at least the past quarter of an hour, her head resting on her hand. She didn't so much as blink when Reno closed the door after himself, leaving Tseng and her alone._

_"Elena," said Tseng, his eyes resting on her face. Without moving her head, she looked at him inquiringly._

_"What?" she asked cautiously when he continued looking at her without a word._

_"I was about to ask you the same thing," Tseng replied, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. Elena smiled distantly, then ran the hand she had been resting on through her blonde hair._

_"I'm just a little preoccupied, that's all." Elena hesitated, unsure of whether to continue. She met Tseng's gaze once more, thinking that there was no one else she would rather talk to about what was on her mind. But she didn't want to offload onto him; bringing personal problems to work felt somehow unprofessional, and Tseng was the epitome of professionalism._

_Nevertheless, he raised an expectant eyebrow and took a sip of his coffee. Elena would have said he looked as though he were settling down in expectation of a riveting revelation._

_"My sister's getting married today," Elena exhaled, sitting back in her chair. Tseng raised both eyebrows and arched his fingers into a steeple. "Don't look so surprised," Elena smirked. "Just because she and I aren't the best of friends doesn't mean everyone finds her as unbearable."_

_Tseng chuckled and crossed one leg over the other. "I imagine her to be successful at whatever she tries her hand at," he replied, casting his mind back to the days when Dionne had been a Turk. Her abilities were very impressive – enough so to make up for her almost inhuman seriousness, which Tseng was tempted to consider an advantage in their line of work – and he hadn't thought twice about hiring her. "And marriage… well, that can happen to the best of us."_

_It was Elena's turn to adopt an expression of mild intrigue. Tseng deflected the unspoken question by looking out of the window at the woods outside. Elena glanced at Tseng's hands, unable to help herself. She had never noticed him wearing a wedding ring amongst those he did wear. Of course, that didn't mean he hadn't been married at some point. Or maybe he was just cynical about marriage in general._

_"So why aren't you there?" he asked, still directing his gaze out of the window. It was raining outside. Elena thought for a moment that he was being sarcastic but when he eventually met her gaze as he awaited an answer, she realised the question had been genuine._

_"Why do you think?" Elena replied, her tone deflated. "She rang me last night to tell me her news, and to see how I was doing. Apparently our parents don't want me there, so I'm not invited." Elena began smoothing the end of her black tie between her thumb and forefinger. "Not that Dionne and I get on that well anyway, which is probably more my fault than hers. She's always outdone me, ever since we were children, and that together with the way my parents were pro her having a career yet the only thing they wanted for me was to marry a rich man and have children… well, I resented Dionne. I was jealous of her; the way Mum and Dad would support her in her Shinra career, but as soon as I decided to take the same path, they pretty much made it clear that I didn't exist to them anymore."_

_Elena stood up abruptly and went over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She had blurted out more than she had really intended to, and these were things she never really talked about._

_"Even after Meteor hit, they still don't want to know. So many families were torn apart; we should consider ourselves lucky that we all still have each other. And now Dionne calls me, tells me she's getting married and that she'd like to see me at some point – just not today. Our parents will be there and she doesn't want an atmosphere." Elena shook her head, swallowing. "I guess it just… brings the whole thing back to the forefront. I mean, it's always been there… just, well, it seems like Dionne's becoming everything my parents wanted rolled into one; she's had the career, and now she's settling down. Dionne two, Elena nil."_

_Elena turned, surprised to come face to face with Tseng, who had been standing directly behind her. How he had moved from his desk over to where she was standing without making a sound was beyond her. He simply had a knack for things like that. "Sorry, I must sound like a jealous child, going on about trying to live up to my sister's standards."_

_Tseng just smiled, a hint of understanding in his brown eyes. "Families… generally aren't as straightforward as we'd like them to be," he said, touching the tops of her arms lightly. Elena got the impression he was speaking from experience. "Besides, I'm not so sure you should consider yourself as being outdone by her."_

_Elena looked up at him curiously, expecting him to come out with something along the lines of her having more 'people-skills' than her sister, or some other ridiculous forte that meant little to Shinra's General Affairs Department. At the same time, the only thing she was really aware of was the touch of his hands on her arms, their warmth penetrating through the fabric of her blouse. Her eyes wandered to his lips and she found herself biting down on her own in an effort to control herself._

_"As your superior, I consider you to be a competent member of the Turks. You have strengths that are different to your sister's but that are invaluable to the department nonetheless," he continued, his tone serious. "If you were anything less, I'd show you the door faster than Reno and Rude head to the bar on a Friday evening."_

_Elena looked down at the floor, having forgotten how formidable Tseng could seem at such close range, especially when he was talking business._

_Tseng watched her a moment, then found himself lifting her chin with his finger to get her to look at him. "As… someone other than your superior…" he went on, sounding every bit as controlled as usual when inwardly he was incapable of stopping himself._

_Lately it seemed he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his cards as close to his chest as he would have liked. Tseng had had a soft spot for Elena since shortly before he had asked her to dinner in the Temple of the Ancients. Even back then he had chastised himself for letting his emotions interfere with his job; inter-staff relationships were awkward at the best of times, especially in a department such as the Turks. And Tseng had seen it before with Vincent and Lucrecia. Something like that could not – would not – happen to him. Shinra was the only loyalty Tseng had known since his extradition from Wutai and he knew that if he were to accept his affections for Elena then he would be setting himself up for trouble, just as Vincent had. When torn between company loyalty and his loyalty to Lucrecia, Vincent had chosen the latter._

_In some ways, Tseng admired him for it. Despite that Vincent had paid dearly for his decision to stand by Lucrecia, Tseng knew that the former Turk at least wouldn't suffer the guilt of having let down the one person who meant the world to him. And Tseng had been there before with Aeris but unlike Vincent, he had played the role of the perfect company man, putting his job before all else; before the Ancient he loved. What his love for her had been, exactly, Tseng was unsure. When Aeris had been a child, it was more akin to the love for a younger sibling; protective, sometimes even nurturing. As she matured, Tseng had become uncertain. Society scoffed at the idea of platonic love between a man and a woman. Regardless of its exact nature, it had been love of a sort and Tseng had disregarded it for the sake of his allegiance to Shinra. And he did not want to be in that position again; forced to choose between the company that gave him a purpose, and someone he loved. Falling for another Turk, or anyone involved with Shinra at all, was bound to lead to that dilemma at some stage or another. It was simply inevitable._

_Elena felt her pulse quicken as he moved close enough so that their bodies were almost touching. The familiar smell of his expensive aftershave was driving her even wilder than it did usually. "As someone 'other than my superior'?" she raised a suggestive eyebrow._

_Tseng's eyes narrowed mischievously and he manoeuvred her so that her back was against the wall rather than the glass. He knew then that he had no intention of stopping. The door to the office was closed and Elena was so close to him that, when he inhaled, it was as if he was breathing her in. "Your sister never made me want to do this."_

_Tseng leaned into her, raking his fingers through her hair to keep her exactly where he wanted her, and placed his lips gently over hers. Elena wrapped her arms around him wantonly in response and the kiss deepened, Tseng's body pushing hers against the wall._

_-x-_

Cold. That was the first thing Elena was aware of as she started to come to. And in all honesty, it was the only thing she wanted to think of for fear of what might be waiting when she opened her eyes. She was so cold it was painful, almost enough so to rival the throbbing in her chest and head.

For a while she just listened. Then, after a few minutes of taking in what was an almost soothing silence, she opened her eyes. As the silence had suggested, the Remnants were nowhere to be seen. Elena realised she was lying where Yazoo had left her, exactly as he had left her. She cast her mind back to the last thing she could remember before he had hit her, and panic surged through her core.

Had he raped her? Elena tried to remember exactly what had happened before falling unconscious but the only images that came to her were fractured and incomplete. Yazoo had been trying to undo her blouse, she recalled, and then her trousers, which was when she had struggled against him. After that something hard and fast, probably his fist, had plunged into her face and that had been that. She tried to sit up and pain overcame her panic. Not only did the bullet wound in her shoulder viciously make its presence felt, but also her stomach muscles felt stiff and bruised. Given that her wrists were bound behind her back, she couldn't use her arms to push herself up.

Forcing herself to calm down, Elena lay still for a few moments, trying to just concentrate on breathing in and out, which seemed even more painful now than it had earlier; after all the water she had inhaled, her lungs felt positively raw.

And then her mind sprang to Tseng. He wasn't sitting where he had been before, and not only that but the chair was also no longer there. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen.

This time she raised only her head from the floor, not wanting to further aggravate things. She still couldn't see him and wondered for a moment if he had managed to escape. But that wouldn't explain why the chair was gone, too. Or what if the Remnants had dragged him off somewhere? Neither idea was particularly comforting.

She managed to spare a glance down at her body, breathing a sigh of relief as she realised that her trousers were still fastened. The more she thought about it, the more she decided that she didn't feel like Yazoo had gone any further. And Elena was sure she would have known if he had.

A part of her expected one, or even all three of the Remnants to appear at any moment. For all she knew, they were still lurking in the shadows somewhere, ready to pounce as soon as they realised their latest plaything was conscious enough to start round two. Well, she wasn't having it if she could help it. Despite the agony and the sickening feeling induced by even the slightest movement, Elena forced herself over so that she was lying on her front. The question as to Tseng's whereabouts that had been occupying more of her mind than she really was happy to admit – especially after his behaviour yesterday and that morning – was suddenly answered. Lying on her back, Elena hadn't been able to see around half of the room and that was where Tseng had clearly been lying the entire time, still bound to the chair.

"Tseng?" Her voice was faint and hoarse. She cleared her throat, trying to work out why, not to mention how, he had moved all the way from where he had been originally whilst tied to the chair. The only logical assumption was that Yazoo must have started on him after finishing with her. "Tseng," she repeated, but he didn't so much as stir.

Elena glanced around, looking for something – anything – she could use to cut through the tape binding her wrists together. But the place was practically empty, barring a few unintelligible objects in one corner, obscured by shadow. It was unlikely that there would be anything she could use but decided to try getting to her feet nonetheless. With considerable effort, Elena managed to bring her knees up under herself and push herself up into a kneeling position, gritting her teeth as her body screamed at her to remain still. No sooner had she gotten up, her head spun nauseatingly and she veered to one side, falling against the water trough beside her. As she slid down towards the floor, Elena was aware of something sharp grating against her forearm and realised that it was the corner of the trough. Where the two sides met at a right angle, the metal sheets that coated the exterior had split apart a little. Perfect.

Elena positioned herself against the corner so that her back was to it and began rubbing her wrists up and down. Her shoulder twinged with every upstroke and she could feel something wet trickling down the right side of her chest. There was enough blood on the floor where she had been lying to know that it wasn't good and she resolved not to allow her gaze to even wander in the direction of her right shoulder. She tried to keep her strokes even and steady but could feel her hands slipping about and caught the sensitive skin of her inner forearms against the metal more than once.

After a while, Elena sensed she must have made a groove in the duct tape, for it was becoming easier to keep her arms in a straight line. If there was one thing she could rely on herself to be, it was determined.

"Elena?" Tseng's voice made her flinch; Elena had been expecting the door to fly open any minute and for the three Remnants to waltz in with a host of new and innovative sadistic ways to pass their evening. She paused a moment, registering that it was Tseng who had spoken.

He was looking at her, the slightly bewildered expression on his face dissipating as he realised what it was she was doing. Elena was relieved he was awake; being alone in that place was less than desirable and moreover, she had been worried about him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice steadier than his vulnerable position looked to allow.

She struggled to meet his gaze, hearing his familiar tone. He was her boss, the man she had been in love with for who knew how long, someone she trusted implicitly but whose last words to her before this ordeal had been some of the hardest she had ever had to hear. The situation they found themselves in, however, seemed to override all of that on some level as the fight for survival became more important.

"I don't know," was about the most honest answer she could come up with as she continued her assault on the tape binding her hands. There wasn't far to go and she could feel the metal scraping closer to her skin. "You?"

"A bit worse for wear," he replied, "but okay." Elena noticed his eyes scrutinising her and felt suddenly rather exposed; her bloodstained, damp blouse was hanging open, revealing more of her torso than she would have liked, and she doubted that her face was a much prettier picture, judging by the way it felt. But then again, it wasn't a beauty contest and the Turk in her reasoned that he was probably assessing her injuries as any professional would do in such a situation, rather than coming to any conclusions about her aesthetic qualities.

"Any idea how long they've been gone?" she asked, thinking it was easier to stick to business.

"It's hard to tell," Tseng replied, looking up at the windows. "A few hours, maybe, judging by the light; I'd say it's now evening and Yazoo probably left… around mid afternoon sometime, at a guess."

Elena nodded, realising that the length of time they had been gone was no real indicator as to what time they might return. Tseng seemed to be about to say something else when she coughed, interrupting him before he could begin. She swore she could taste blood but in the same instant dismissed it as being nothing serious; the blood from her earlier nosebleed had probably found its way into her mouth at some point, she told herself. The way Tseng's eyes lingered darkly on her face, however, suggested he had not made the same rationalisation as she had about where it might have come from.

Shortly afterwards, Elena felt the tightness around her wrists subside as the metal cut through the tape. Carefully, she eased her wrists in different directions and the tape began to come away from her skin. It wasn't the easiest of tasks, for her arms were stiff after being behind her back for so long but the small victory over her binds was motivation enough to keep going. The biggest incentive of all, however, was the fact that if the Remnants returned before they managed to escape, then there was every chance that the pair of them would die there. Slowly and painfully, if they weren't already.

Once free, Elena brought her hands round in front of her and decided that doing up her blouse would be a good place to start. Her hands were so cold they were almost numb and she gave up after fastening the middle three buttons somewhat shakily. Besides, time was of the essence. She crawled across the short distance to where Tseng was lying, thinking it would be better to save trying to walk for when it was absolutely necessary.

As she moved round behind him, she noticed from the corner of her eye that the lower half of his shirt was open, with a few buttons lying loose on the floor. Other than the scar he had received from Sephiroth, the flesh underneath seemed unharmed. At a guess, Elena would have said that Yazoo had left before following his intentions through, fortunately for Tseng.

Tseng felt his heart rate quicken as Elena busied herself trying to unpick the tape securing his wrists behind the chair. The closer they got to a glimpse of freedom, the more urgent the situation seemed. Her hands were surprisingly steady, he thought, considering what she had just been through. Again, he was unsure of why he would expect any less of her; she was a Turk, and no longer a rookie for that matter. And without her, he would have been going nowhere just then.

Her hands occasionally brushed against his as she worked on his binds and it almost made him shiver to feel how cold they were. But then she was still damp after the session with the water, and the temperature in the building wasn't exactly conducive to drying. At such close proximity, he also couldn't help but notice that her breathing was a little on the laboured side, probably due to having her lungs filled repeatedly with water.

Once his hands were free, breaking out of the tape that was wrapped around his chest, effectively binding him to the upright of the chair, was not too much of a challenge. Tseng touched a cautious hand to the left side of his head, where both blows he had received had been directed. Most of the blood had dried but as soon as he moved, his head and neck throbbed painfully. As his fingers drifted gingerly over the wound on the left side of his forehead, he noticed Elena looking at him with some concern.

"I'm fine," he muttered, putting his hand down on the floor to help push himself up onto all fours, from which position he managed to get carefully to his feet. "It looks worse than it is." Elena raised her eyebrows as he wavered uncertainly and inadvertently knocked his foot against the overturned chair beside him.

"You don't know how it looks," she replied dryly, catching sight of her blazer on the floor, not far from the trough. Tseng was tempted to return that she looked even worse than he felt but reigned himself in, believing that she probably knew that already. And he knew her well enough to know how she hated appearing weak or incapable and had no desire to add to the mortification her face suggested she already felt.

Elena struggled to her feet but lost her balance almost as soon as she managed to stand even halfway straight. She would have fallen had a supportive arm not steadied her around her waist. With his other hand, Tseng reached down and set the chair upright before guiding her to sit on it. He didn't let go of her until he was sure she was properly on the chair. Although his touch was a welcome comfort, Elena avoided his gaze and her cheeks flushed slightly in embarrassment. Tseng said nothing and went to pick her blazer up off the floor, wondering in the back of his mind how on earth they were going to get out of there. Assuming the door was even unlocked, the observation base was pretty much in the middle of nowhere, stranded between the Northern Crater and the City of the Ancients, and Kadaj had confiscated their phones. Not to mention that it was getting darker and colder by the minute. Tseng didn't even have to look at Elena's injuries properly to know that she was not in good shape and would find it hard going walking any distance whatsoever; her head injuries were similar to his own but on top of that she had been losing blood from the moment Yazoo had shot her back at the Crater. It was something of a wonder that she had managed to free them both in the first place.

"Here," he said, draping the blazer over her shoulders. The corners of Elena's mouth tugged into a vague smile of appreciation and she slid her left arm into the jacket. He watched her struggle with the other arm for a few moments, knowing that the bullet wound meant she could hardly move it without causing immense pain. When he made to help her, however, she brushed his hand away.

"I thought you weren't interested," she mumbled, wincing as she eventually managed to get the jacket on. Tseng sighed, remembering what he had said to her that morning. He had not chosen his moment very well. Had Elena looked up at him just then, she would have seen an expression on Tseng's face that very few had seen before; sheer and unadulterated regret. "Sorry," Elena followed up, her face still averted. "This isn't the time or the place, I know." Before Tseng could say anything, Elena continued: "Do you think the door's open?"

"I was just wondering the same," he replied, his gaze lingering on her for a few more seconds before he went over to the industrial sized door. Gripping the handle, he hesitated a moment and listened. Once satisfied that he was not about to stumble upon something completely unexpected, he pushed against the door. It was just as heavy as it looked and opened with a metallic creak, much to both Tseng and Elena's relief. They were getting somewhere.

Beyond the door was what looked like a storage area for vehicles or even a small plane, given its size and the fact that there was no ceiling other than the moss-covered glass roof, which was at least two storeys high. Two large sliding doors were open slightly, just about wide enough for a smaller vehicle to pass through. Trees were visible not far from the entrance and thin patches of snow covered the ground only in places, which was heartening; the place was not as far north as Tseng had feared.

"I take it this is good news," came Elena's voice from directly behind him. She was standing behind him, her left hand placed against the wall to support herself.

"For now, at least," Tseng nodded. "We need to head south, but that's just the direction they'll expect us to go in," he added contemplatively. "So I'd suggest we set off south east, bypassing the City of the Ancients and towards Bone Village."

Elena nodded in agreement. Bone Village was the nearest source of civilisation at any rate, since the City of the Ancients had lain deserted for years. She coughed again suddenly, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. When she took it away, there was no mistaking this time where the blood had come from. Tseng considered her seriously for a moment, already forming conclusions in his mind about what was going on. He had, a long time ago, trained in the art of extracting information from sources and knew well that water boarding could cause lung damage and often pneumonia. Aspiration pneumonia, if he remembered correctly. He was tempted to sit her down there and then to tend to the more serious of her injuries but knew it would be a more sensible course of action to escape first and then rest somewhere safe.

"Don't look at me like that, Tseng," Elena said quietly, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. He gathered from the expression of controlled alarm on her face that she knew what was happening. She needed him to be strong, he thought, and strong he would be. "Let's just get out of here and worry about the rest later," she added, taking a few steps forward. It crossed his mind in that moment that their ways of thinking were more alike than he had noticed before.

Even though Tseng was lacking in his usual strength, he linked his arm through hers and encouraged her to rest some of her weight against him. There was no way she would get as far as ten metres on her own, and they both knew it. Putting her pride to one side, Elena did as directed and together they left the observation base as fast as they could.

"This way," Tseng said, pondering over the position of the setting sun and deducing their course from the fact that it set in the west. "We'll head north into the woods and then loop round to the south east. It might not work but our footprints in the snow here might just send them in the wrong direction. As far as they're concerned, we've been beaten senseless and probably won't have worked out which way's south."

They had just set foot inside the surrounding woods when the sound of an engine, possibly more than one, was audible in the distance. Tseng's gaze locked with Elena's as they listened, realising that whatever it was was drawing closer.

"Motorbikes…" Elena muttered. "They're coming."


	4. Chapter 4

The ominous sound of motorbikes was growing louder with every passing second. Elena could feel the pulsing of Tseng's heart through her left arm, which was linked through his and pressed against his side. It was enough to tell her that she wasn't the only one who was afraid. As they stood there, trying to work out from which direction Kadaj and his brothers were coming, the grim thought crossed Elena's mind that she would only slow Tseng down in a chase that even a fit human being would have been hard pushed to win; the Remnants were faster and stronger than mere mortals and akin to Sephiroth multiplied by three.

"They're coming from that direction," Tseng muttered suddenly, his gaze fixed into the distance as he concentrated on listening hard. "From the south, probably along that dirt track," he nodded to the narrow trail that was just visible through the trees. "We'll head east for now, then bear south once we've put some distance between us and them." It sounded like a good plan. The Turk leader could always be trusted to have a plan, even in the most difficult of situations.

Tseng drove the both of them forward into jog, knowing it was unrealistic to attempt going any faster given their injuries yet the all but intolerable urge to get as far away from the Remnants as possible, as quickly as possible, numbed the pain enough to keep them going.

Their breath was visible in the cold air, which grazed uncomfortably against their skin and penetrated their clothes as they half ran, half stumbled their way through the woodland. The sky had taken on rather impressive shades of blue, red and purple as the sun set behind them. Despite that it was the most inspiring sight they had seen in a while, the sound of approaching motorbikes was now loud enough to suggest that the brothers were close.

Elena felt herself flagging and tripped more than once on the tree roots and larger sticks that littered the ground. Every stride she took sent waves of pain through most of her body and the exertion had done little to help the raw feeling in her chest; it felt like murder to just breathe. It wasn't long before her legs began to feel like jelly and the only things keeping her moving forward were Tseng and sheer determination.

At such close proximity to him, Elena could feel Tseng's chest heaving against her side and although he looked pale against the blood staining the right half of his face, he was showing no obvious signs of tiring. It reminded her of how he had managed to find his way to the entrance of the Temple of the Ancients after Sephiroth had stabbed him in the room at the building's heart. He was strong inside and out and she trusted him like a child trusted an adult before they were old enough to realise that human beings weren't infallible; that things could go wrong despite being promised otherwise.

She had been focussing so intensely on just putting one foot in front of the other that it took Elena a moment to register that _something_ had changed; other than the sound of their own footfalls, an uncanny silence surrounded them. The engines had stopped. So the Remnants were back at the base, meaning it would probably be only a matter of minutes before they discovered something was missing. She just hoped, as did Tseng, that the Remnants either followed the footsteps that led to the north, or that they figured their hostages would head directly south. East would not have been a logical direction to go in, Elena reassured herself. No, there as no way the brothers would think to head east. They weren't the sharpest tools in the drawer, after all.

At a guess, they must have put around a kilometre between themselves and the observation base. That was the last thing that had dawdled through Elena's mind before the ground appeared to hurtle towards her at surprising speed. She was vaguely aware of Tseng clawing at her arm as she fell, the result of which was that she twisted round and landed on her back, hitting the ground with less force than she otherwise would have done. The sky filled her vision as she coughed painfully, blood splattering out from between her lips.

"Elena!" Tseng half hissed, half shouted, obviously curbing himself as he realised the Remnants were possibly still within an audible distance. Anxiety was barefaced in his eyes as he bent over her, the tip of his tie brushing lightly against the nape of her neck. It was a sight that warmed her a little inside, to think that he cared, but it soon faded along with the rest of the world.

"Don't do this," Tseng muttered, shaking her as her eyes rolled closed. In truth, he had been expecting her to collapse a lot sooner; she was losing, and had already lost, a fair amount of blood, not to mention the state of her lungs coupled with a probable concussion. Tseng scooped her limp form up into his arms, sliding one arm under her shoulder blades and the other under her knees. She wasn't particularly heavy yet Tseng's fatigued muscles did not relish the idea of carrying any extra weight. He staggered to his feet and continued at a brisk walk, breaking every now and then into a jog.

Tseng tried to hold her so that her head rested against his shoulder, although every so often it would lull backwards, forcing him to readjust his grip. He could not help glancing at her face from time to time, hoping that she might come round. The trickle of fresh blood that was escaping the corner of her mouth, however, didn't bode well on that score.

To call her a mess would have been an understatement but despite the blood, the bruises, the smudged mascara and her half-damp blonde hair that was matted with blood nearer her face, Tseng still thought she was beautiful. _She's beautiful to me_ , he thought miserably, feeling physically sick as he recalled the last things he had said to her that same morning: _I mean it; I'm not interested, never will be._ He had wanted her to hate him, to make it easier for him to distance himself emotionally from her. It had hurt to say the words and it had hurt even more to see the look on her face that she had tried so hard to hide. Never in a million years did he think those might have been the last meaningful words she might ever hear from him, especially as they weren't strictly true; loving her was probably one of the only things about his life that he did not regret.

_-x-_

_"You're late," Tseng remarked sourly as Elena slipped through the door to the Turks' office in Healin Lodge. His tone was distinctly cold, making Elena somewhat reluctant to look up and meet her boss' gaze. When she did, she was met by a disapproving pair of eyes. It was hard to believe that only a little over twelve hours previously, those same eyes had looked upon her with affection that bordered on lust. Her buoyant mood sunk like a stone as, for some reason, she got the impression the displeasure he was directing at her was personal; as professional as Tseng was, it was unlike him to grumble when one of them was a grand total of three minutes late to a briefing._

_"Sorry," she muttered, walking behind Reno's chair to get to her own. Tseng was standing in front of the window and appeared to be about to start. His expression seemed a little strained if anything, adding to Elena's feeling of apprehension. After their encounter yesterday where Tseng had kissed her – yes, kissed her, Elena reminded herself, she certainly had not been expecting any special treatment at work, especially not in front of Reno and Rude, yet she hadn't quite anticipated being on the receiving end of what could be bluntly called a bad mood. There was every chance that Tseng's source of tension was work related, of course, but somehow Elena wasn't entirely convinced._

_Reno and Rude exchanged glances, which Tseng noticed with an unamused raised eyebrow. Reno then switched his attention to Elena and shrugged. Elena might normally have felt reassured by him. Just then, however, she found her eyes wandering over to where Tseng was standing, focussing on the wall behind him. The sensation of his lips over hers, the feeling of being sandwiched between his body and the wall, her hands entangled in his long hair, his arms wrapping around her; all came flooding back._

_"In just over an hour, Reno, Elena and myself will be heading to the Northern Crater on a retrieval mission," Tseng began. "Rude, you'll be staying here with the President," he added, pacing slowly forward so that he was standing behind his desk. He was yet to look at any of them properly. "There have been further reports about a certain kind of... 'activity' in the area; it seems these Jenova Remnants are up to something in the Crater. We know that traces of Jenova are still present in that area and to avert the possibility of anyone obtaining Jenova cells, it's important that we locate and retrieve what's left of it. According to our reports, the only part not recovered the last time a team was sent there was her head, and it's likely that this is what the Remnants are searching for."_

_"The frigging head?" Reno grimaced with disgust. "What're they gonna do? Stick it on a pole as some kind of ornament and worship it?"_

_"No, Reno," Tseng sighed, "that's what I'll be doing with_ your _head, minus the worshipping, if you don't take this seriously." He paused for a moment and appeared to be finding it something of a challenge to remain objective; he looked distracted, what with the way his gaze wandered around the office and at the same time avoided making prolonged eye contact with any of them. "The head is full of Jenova cells," he went on, "which, for obvious reasons, we do not want falling into the wrong hands. Hence our mission is to find and retrieve the head, or what's left of it, before anyone else does."_

_"But if the team that went there to clean up last time didn't find it, how do we know that it's what the Remnants are looking for?" Reno cocked his head. "I mean, we don't know that the head is even there or intact, so how do we know they're not up to something else?" When Tseng didn't reply immediately, Reno couldn't help but add: "In all seriousness."_

_"The fact that the rest of her was found, albeit in pieces scattered about the place, it's logical to assume that the head is there somewhere," Tseng replied, ignoring Reno's sarcasm. "If we can't find it, then our next move would be to survey the area to see what it is they are doing. But we'll cross that bridge if we get to it." Tseng approached the door and opened it, pausing briefly as he looked back at them over his shoulder. "We leave in an hour." And then he was gone, the sounds of his hard-soled shoes on the wooden floor fading as he disappeared down the corridor._

_"Well someone got out of the wrong side of bed this morning," Reno raised his eyebrows, clasping his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair. "Or perhaps he was kicked out," he added, a mischievous glint in his green eyes._

_"By?" Rude asked, turning his head to look at his partner, his sunglasses shielding his expression._

_"A woman, of course," Reno replied, as if he were stating the obvious. Elena felt her stomach knot, even if it was unlikely Reno had a clue what had happened between Tseng and her yesterday. Or perhaps he did; Reno was perceptive, especially when it came to detecting chemistry between people. She recalled how he was usually the one to start speculative gossip about who was getting off with whom in the former Shinra HQ in Midgar, and most of the time he had been right. "Don't tell me a mood like that_ isn't _to do with some woman," he continued, rotating his chair gently from left to right. "No offence, Elena," he added as an afterthought._

_She looked up at him sceptically but said nothing. Which was a mistake._

_"What, you as well?" Reno raised his eyebrows._

_"Not everything's about sex, Reno," Rude muttered. Reno ignored him with a swat of his hand._

_"I don't know, first off there's Tseng, then you…" he broke off, looking pointedly at Elena. Rude sighed, thinking he could almost see the cogs turning in Reno's mind as the redhead put two and two together. Unbeknown to Rude, however, it was unlikely that he was going to come out with five this time. Reno sat forward in his chair, a suggestive grin spreading over his face. Elena shot him a look that bordered on homicidal. "When Tseng got rid of me yesterday afternoon… that left you and him here… all alone…" Reno was almost glowing with self-satisfaction now as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. "And then you come in this morning and he goes off at you for no_ real _reason…"_

_"Reno," Rude warned._

_"Just grow up, Reno," Elena snapped as she stood up and headed briskly towards the door._

_"I didn't mean it like that!" Reno protested, back peddling as he realised Elena was in no mood for joking. In his mind, however, it only served to confirm his suspicions that something had gone on between Tseng and Elena._

_"Yes, you did," Elena answered._

_"He just can't help himself," Rude folded his arms._

_"I was just… making an observation," he said innocently, wincing slightly as though he expected her to throw something at him. She probably would have done had there been something to hand. "And well, Tseng's always been a hit with the ladies. You could call him one of Shinra's more… um, refined poster boys."_

_"Really?"_

_To his credit, Reno did not flinch at the sound of a distinctly unimpressed voice coming from somewhere behind him, somewhere in the region of the doorway. Visible only to Rude sitting at the desk opposite him, Reno's expression sank like a lead balloon. Trust Tseng to appear_ right _at that very moment._

_Elena whipped around to find herself standing face to face with Tseng, or she would have been if she were about a foot taller. She didn't venture as far as looking at his face and instead sidestepped him and left down the corridor before things could get any more embarrassing._

_Reno swivelled his chair round to face his boss, who was still standing in the doorway with his arms folded. Usually, Tseng disregarded Reno's humour with an unamused roll of the eyes or sometimes even a trace of a smile; in their line of work, a little light-heartedness was a healthy distraction. That morning, however, Tseng simply had no patience for the Turk whose competence he respected and who he was inwardly quite fond of._

_"That was meant as a compliment," Reno said, his tone casual and devoid of any awkwardness. "Poster boy… was just an unfortunate choice of words."_

_Tseng stepped inside the office, stopping just short of Reno. Despite that it was obvious from his face that he was far from pleased, Tseng remained as unreadable as ever. Reno was hoping for the 'I'm-not-even-going-to-honour-that-with-a-response'-look that Tseng so often graced him with._

_"The helicopter needs preparing before we leave," said Tseng, moving over to his desk. Reno nodded and made for the door, when Tseng spoke again. "If you insist on including me in your rumour-mongering, Reno," he said, glancing up at the Turk. Reno swallowed as he began to ask himself just how much his boss had heard. "I'd recommend a little discretion, unless you fancy ending up as the unfortunate poster boy for the hospital clinic next door. I'd have absolutely no reservations about arranging that for you."_

_Rude visibly suppressed a chuckle. Reno hesitated, then smiled good-humouredly. "Thank you, Tseng," he said, "but there'll be no need. I quite like my face the way it is." Tseng looked up at him, his expression softening a fraction. For a brief moment, Reno's face took on a seriousness that hinted at the unspoken question: are you okay? Tseng blinked slowly, shaking his head ever so slightly as if to reply that he was grateful for the concern, but that it was also unnecessary._

_-'-_

_"What I said earlier," Reno's voice drifted from inside the helicopter, "I didn't mean to upset you." A thud followed, and eventually Reno appeared in the open doorway, his cheeks flushed._

_Elena looked up at him from her position perched on a crate not far from the helicopter. "Forget about it," she sighed. "My mind's just on… other things."_

_"Like?" Reno asked, hopping down from the chopper and approaching her, dusting off his blazer. "Come on, shove up," he said, sitting down next to her on the crate._

_"You just rooting for gossip?" Elena shot him a sideward glance, a deflated smile on her lips._

_"Me?" Reno feigned shock, straightening and placing one hand over his heart. "Of course not." Elena had to laugh at him. "So?" he raised his eyebrows._

_"If you must know," Elena began, her mind rapidly turning over what she was going to say, and how. In all honesty, she didn't know what the score was with Tseng and certainly was not going to let that cat out of the bag. "It's my sister. She's getting married today."_

_"Dionne?"_

_Elena nodded. "Yes, Dionne. It's just awkward family stuff, nothing interesting."_

_"Oh well, guess she's off the market, then," Reno sighed dejectedly. He had joined the Turks not long before Dionne left and had made no secret in the past of having something of a thing for Elena's older sister. Elena elbowed him lightly in the side and pulled a face as though she had eaten something unpleasant. "You're not going?" he asked._

_"No," Elena shook her head. "Not really my scene. And I wasn't exactly invited."_

_"You get to spend your day with me and Mr Grumpy instead, chasing after lovely bits of Jenova," Reno grinned, putting an arm around her shoulders and squeezing her hard. "Speaking of Grumpy, any idea what's eating him?"_

_"Tseng?" Elena hesitated, realising that she really didn't know for certain what his problem was. "Who knows," she shrugged._

_"Incoming," Reno said suddenly, standing up and returning to the helicopter. Tseng was walking towards them across the large shed where Shinra stored its vehicles. As soon as she saw him Elena felt her stomach clench nervously. She checked her watch; they had ten minutes yet before they were scheduled to depart. Tseng went straight up to the open door of the helicopter without sparing so much as a glance in Elena's direction and poked his head inside._

_"All set?" he asked._

_"Pretty much," she heard Reno reply. Tseng deposited the black holdall he had been carrying inside, then, to Elena's surprise, he turned to her._

_"Are you ready?" he asked plainly. Elena found her tongue strangely unresponsive and ended up averting her gaze from him, settling for just nodding. Her mind was struggling to deal with the fact that he had been so affectionate towards her yesterday and yet now it was as though an endless expanse had forced itself between them. The unguarded look on Tseng's face after he kissed her had imprinted itself on her mind._

_As Tseng motioned for her to board the chopper, Elena was overcome with the urge to ask him what was going on. She almost bailed but stopped as she drew level with him and had opened her mouth before she could really think about it._

_"What is going on?" she asked quietly, looking him straight in the eye. Tseng appeared to draw back ever so slightly and Elena could see the muscles working in his jaw as he bit his teeth together. Taking her by the arm, he led her around the helicopter to the other side and out of Reno's earshot. Letting go of her, he looked into the distance for a moment or two, then fixed her with a penetrating stare._

_"What happened yesterday evening... was a mistake. It was unprofessional of me and it won't happen again."_

_"Tseng, you-"_

_"No, Elena. I mean it; I'm not interested, never will be. Now I suggest you concentrate on the retrieval mission in the Northern Crater."_

_And then he was gone, leaving only a subtle waft of aftershave in his wake. Elena stood rooted to the spot, lips parted slightly as she stared after him. She felt sick._

_-x-_


	5. Chapter 5

It was almost dark when Tseng decided a break was long overdue. He was struggling to keep moving, let alone keep a steady grip on Elena. Picking out a broad tree trunk from the many surrounding them, he approached it and lowered Elena down carefully to sit her against the trunk. He slumped down beside her and let out a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly. Now that he had relaxed a little, he realised just how tired and hungry he was. They needed food, water and shelter. Preferably a doctor, too. As it stood, however, not one of those things was on offer. Tseng was just too exhausted to really take in the thought of spending the night out there, in the cold and dark whilst still in the vicinity of the Remnants.

He got to his knees and faced Elena, knowing he had to do something to hinder her deterioration. The bullet wound was his primary concern and probably the only thing he could do anything about. The sun had not long gone down, leaving enough light for him to see what he was doing. He reached for the buttons of her blouse that she had managed to do up, feeling suddenly hesitant about undressing her. The image of Yazoo straddling her whilst trying to get her blouse open replayed in his mind; how Elena had struggled with him and the way he had laid into her mercilessly. Tseng swallowed the lump in his throat, wondering what would have happened had Yazoo's phone not rang when it did. He would have been physically powerless to stop Yazoo. But then all it would have taken was for Tseng to open his mouth and tell Yazoo what he wanted to hear.

Would he have let Yazoo rape her for the sake of remaining loyal to Shinra? For the sake of keeping Jenova's location a secret, when the brothers would most likely have worked it out anyway? That was what lay at the heart of it all, the reason why Tseng was so reluctant to let himself fall for her; he never wanted to be forced to choose between Shinra and Elena; between the company that had been the one constant in his life, and the woman he cared about more than anything. Viewing her simply as a Turk, there was an unspoken agreement that the company ultimately came first when push came to shove; every Turk signed up to the job knowing what it entailed. That wasn't to say that the Turks did not do their damnedest to watch each other's backs, but they had to watch the company's back first and foremost. That was how it was. But viewing her as 'just' a Turk had been increasingly difficult for a while now.

Tseng had known all along that if his feelings for Elena deepened to a level that went beyond the feelings he had for a fellow Turk – for a friend – then his loyalty to Shinra would be compromised. To him, the only alternative was to simply eliminate one of the two from the equation, which he had tried rather unsuccessfully to do that morning; namely Elena. But things were never that straightforward. Feelings didn't come with an off-switch, or a return-to-sender option. And the way he felt about Elena meant that putting Shinra's interests before his own was no longer something he could do so automatically; in the past, Shinra's interests had been synonymous with _his_ interests.

And speaking of Shinra's interests, Tseng felt a pang of worry as he wondered whether Kadaj had paid Rufus a visit as he had announced he would back at the observation base earlier. He knew Rufus would not turn over Jenova easily, despite the fact that his health was becoming increasingly compromised by the Geostigma. And then there was the fact that Kadaj would have had to get past Reno and Rude before speaking – or doing anything else – to Rufus. There were simply too many possibilities to consider, and Tseng was powerless with regard to all of them.

He forced himself to look at Elena's face, at the bruises and the streaks of now dried blood, wondering if he could have prevented it by telling the Remnants the whereabouts of Jenova's head. There was always the possibility that they would have continued anyway once they had the information they were after, yet that didn't stop Tseng from feeling guilty. He had _wanted_ to tell them where it was. It consoled him little when he reasoned that Elena had made the choice to remain silent; that, as a Turk, she knew they both were not in a position to talk. It just didn't change the fact that every part of him had longed to tell them just so they would stop hurting her. And in his eyes, that made him a liability to the company.

Perhaps things were not so clear cut, he tried to tell himself; they were all human, and he did not imagine he would have found it any easier to remain silent had it been Reno or Rude in Elena's position. Maybe he would just have to learn to live in a state of uncertainty and to cross bridges once he came to them. Forcing himself to concentrate, he eased Elena's blazer off her shoulders before unbuttoning her blouse. He was too tired and had too much of a pounding headache to let his mind run round in circles about his divided loyalties. Elena needed him, as a friend and as a colleague, and that was all he was going to think about.

Steeling himself for what awaited him under the blood-soaked fabric of her blouse, Tseng slid it off her shoulders as he had done her blazer and pushed it down her arms. Realising that her bra strap was also in the way, he moved it carefully to one side. It was difficult to tell if the wound just below her collarbone was still bleeding due to the sheer amount of blood covering the skin around it. There was nothing he could use to clean the wound so he would just have to bandage it as best he could. And that posed the question of what on earth he could use.

Tseng didn't particularly want to shred her blouse and use it as a bandage for she needed every bit of clothing she had to keep warm. Shrugging out of his blazer, he put it to one side and unbuttoned his shirt. Once he was out of it, he ripped off both sleeves before putting what was left of the shirt back on, followed by his jacket. He tied the two sleeves together to make one long piece of fabric, then proceeded to loop it tightly around her shoulder, passing it under her arm to hold it in place. It was only a matter of seconds, however, before blood soaked through.

Determined not to be beaten, Tseng pulled Elena's tie out of her collar and wrapped it over the top, followed by his own tie. It was only makeshift, granted, but it had to be better than nothing. As he finished tying off his tie, Elena groaned quietly. No doubt the pressure of the improvised bandages was painful, enough so to provoke a reaction from her. Tseng was about to pull her blouse back up over her shoulders when she stirred, her eyes parting slowly.

An expression of fear swept over her face as she obviously realised she was half-undressed. For a moment, she was back there in the observation base with Yazoo attempting to strip her clothes off and she tried feebly to get away from the hands that were pulling at her blouse. Little did she realise that it was Tseng.

"Elena, it's me," Tseng said softly, holding her upper arms in his hands. "It's Tseng. It's all right."

Elena stopped, closing her eyes and letting out a shaky breath as she heard his voice. Tseng felt an urge to cradle her in his arms but settled instead for squeezing her uninjured shoulder reassuringly.

"He didn't, did he?" she asked suddenly. Tseng sat back and looked into her eyes that were trying to focus. He didn't have to ask who or what she was talking about, for the horror in her watering eyes said it all; Yazoo.

"No," Tseng shook his head. "His phone rang and he left before he had the chance." He brushed a few loose strands of hair off her face, finding it an excuse to touch her; to comfort her.

"Then… then why were you," she cleared her throat, which did little to correct the hoarseness of her voice. "Why were you halfway across the room?"

Tseng straightened her blouse over her shoulders and began doing up the buttons as he pondered his answer. Somehow, he had known she would ask at some point. They both knew that there was no fighting the Remnants; they were just too strong. But that didn't stop Tseng from wishing he had intervened sooner, even if it would have got them nowhere. When he looked up, his gaze was met by Elena's tired eyes. She was looking at him searchingly, almost as if she could see right into his soul.

"I struggled with him, then his phone went." Tseng pulled her blazer up so that it was on her properly, then positioned himself so that he was sitting closely beside her.

"So… if you hadn't, then Yazoo would've –"

"Possibly," Tseng cut her off. "It was just lucky his phone rang when it did. I was no match for him."

Elena nodded vaguely. It was unusual to hear something like that coming from Tseng, who was generally more than a match for any opponent he faced.

"…Thank you," she said after a while, swivelling her eyes to look at him briefly. It occurred to her that this was their first real time together alone after he had given her the brush off before setting out on the mission earlier that day; up until now, they had had more important things on their minds, such as escaping. And Tseng's rather abrupt turnaround still stung big time, like a wasp sting was always worse in the time after the event of being stung. Part of her wanted to demand an honest answer from him, the other, however, felt uncannily aware of the fact that he was her boss and she was the junior operative. A cynical voice in her head was only too quick to remind her that he had not behaved as the leader of the Turks was supposed to when he had kissed her yesterday.

After a short while of sitting in silence, Elena closed her eyes. She was too exhausted, too cold and in too much pain to feel awkward around him. It was almost completely dark and the temperature was dropping.

"Try to stay awake," Tseng said unexpectedly. If she had heard him, she didn't show it. "Elena."

The next thing she was aware of was his arms linking under hers and lifting her upper body forwards and away from the tree trunk. He then stepped behind her and lowered himself to the ground so that she was sitting between his legs with her back resting against his chest. Tseng himself was leaning back against the tree.

"You're cold," he said in answer to the unspoken question as to what he was doing. Elena fancied she could hear something of a defensive undertone in his voice. "We both are."

"Careful, Tseng," Elena remarked dryly, even if she was secretly grateful for both the feeling of security and his body heat. "You wouldn't want to go giving me the wrong impression."

Before Tseng could reply, Elena's body tensed and she began coughing. As it grew worse, Tseng closed his arms around her, holding her to him. He feared it would not be long before she was in a bad way, if she wasn't already. She was struggling to breathe and the telltale choking sounds coming from her throat suggested she was coughing up more blood.

"I... wasn't really honest with you this morning," he confessed quietly as Elena gradually stopped hacking. His voice was lacking in its usual level quality. "What I said was... it wasn't true."

"Don't," Elena shook her head, inhaling shakily. "Not if you're going to do another u-turn when... _if_ we get out of here. Don't—" Another, fortunately brief, coughing fit shook her body. "Don't tell me what you think I want to hear," she breathed, "just because I'm… I'm not going to—" Tseng's arms tightened around her, prompting her to stop, his eyes closing in a deep frown. Elena couldn't help but think how bitterly ironic it was that her long-held desire to feel his arms around her was granted only now, when she wasn't really in a position to savour the moment. Pain, both physical and emotional, put such a dampener on things.

"It'll be twelve years next month since I was extradited from Wutai," Tseng began as Elena relaxed in his arms once more. It was something that very few people knew about him outside of Wutai itself. President Shinra had known, of course, as did some of the former Turks. Reno had found out purely by accident on a trip to Wutai a few years back and, as Tseng had asked, kept it to himself. "I was 22. There was a long run up to the war between Wutai and Shinra... a lot of espionage went on, terrorist attacks on Midgar and on Shinra's establishments elsewhere by Wutai rebels. My father was the leader of one of the strongest rebel groups; he saw Shinra as a corrupt and invading force on a city that was perfectly self-sufficient. Leaders in Wutai were planning on entering a deal for a new reactor with Shinra, whilst still remaining politically independent. A lot of people were sceptical, though; my father being one of them." He paused, casting his mind back to that time, remembering it all as if it were yesterday.

"My father and I used to get on quite well, until he became a key figure in the resistance against Shinra. At the time I… I believed that Shinra could benefit Wutai, and I didn't agree with the rebels' tactics. Blowing up buildings and stirring up violence didn't sit right with me, as hypocritical as that might sound now. People who had nothing to do with the whole thing were killed in rebel attacks. My father didn't condone it directly but he saw such action as being… necessary; for the greater good of the people. We argued about it a lot so when I was approached one day by Veld, the then leader of the Turks, it didn't take much persuading for me to agree to spy for Shinra; I was a valuable asset to them, what with my father being the leader of the most violent and problematic resistance group in Wutai. I successfully spied for Shinra for almost six months and by the time my father grew suspicious, it was too late for his group; I'd given Shinra more than enough intel on them. Most were caught but my father fled Wutai, not before he reported me for treason, though. By this time, the Wutain authorities had decided to sever their ties with Shinra because the situation was so out of hand; the two sides were practically on the brink of war. And so I was charged, publicly shamed and then extradited, only for Veld to offer me a permanent job in Midgar, working in Shinra's General Affairs' Department."

Tseng's voice had fallen to a level not much above a whisper. He took a deep breath and Elena heard him swallow. Never before had he been so open about his past; he would sometimes make noncommittal references to his youth, to his time before joining Shinra, but always with a look in his eyes that dissuaded any questions.

"Tseng, I… I had no idea." She tried to swivel round to face him but his hold on her prevented her from moving. Hesitantly, her left hand found his shin that was beside her, for he was sitting with his legs arched at the knees. Elena held on to him. She wondered why he was telling her something so personal at a time like this, and the only answer that sprang to mind was that he must have thought this was the only time she had left; that she wasn't going to make it.

"It's not something I broadcast about the place," he replied. His cheek was lightly touching the side of her head now. "I tell myself that I should be proud of standing by what I believed in but… I feel so ashamed. I turned my back on my father, on my home." He paused, taking another breath. "Which is why I made myself a promise when I got to Midgar; to never do that again. To be loyal to the Turks, to Shinra, no matter what the cost." Another pause, and a sigh. "I was determined not to let anything compromise that loyalty, as if I had some sin to repent for. With the exception of trying to help Zack Fair escape Hojo's clutches… I've kept to my promise. I've done things for Shinra out of loyalty that, twelve years ago, I would have point blank refused to, out of principle."

 _And now I've let you suffer for the sake of that loyalty… I'd give you up because…_ Tseng thought bitterly as he remembered Jack Shinra sitting in his leather swivel chair, cigar in one hand as he pontificated about 'inter-staff' relationships after Vincent had 'been taken care of' following his 'misplaced affections' for a fellow Shinra employee; Lucrecia.

"That's why," Tseng started suddenly, feeling that now was as good a time as any, if not the _only_ time, to be honest. "This morning I… I said what I did because yesterday I let my—" he broke off abruptly, and Elena felt his body tense. _I let my feelings for you get the better of me_ was what he had intended to say before bright headlights in the near distance penetrated the heavy blackness that had descended on the woods. They seemed to be moving reasonably slowly, and with them the tall and thin shadows cast by the trees appeared to ripple across the undergrowth. The low hum of an idling engine was audible, suggesting that the vehicle, probably a car of some description, was driving at little more than a crawl.

Tseng realised they must have been closer to a road or dirt track than he had originally thought. Thinking as a Turk, he was more than aware of the fact that this might not have been the good news he was hoping it could be. It was more than possible that the Remnants had opted to pursue them in a different vehicle, having reasoned that he and Elena would take them to be someone else and approach them for help, given that the brothers had previously been seen on motorbikes. Still, it would have been suicide to pass up the opportunity to see who it was, just in case some other odd soul made a habit of going for midnight drives out there.

"Wait here," Tseng muttered, getting to his feet. It occurred to him that Elena probably couldn't go anywhere even if she wanted to, but then the lengths the human body could go to when really pushed were not to be underestimated. He got up carefully and guided Elena by the shoulders to lean back against the tree trunk. Crouching down before her, his hands still on her shoulders, he paused a moment as he looked at her face. Somehow, she was holding it together despite the pain she must have been in. Elena wasn't going to break down and beg him not to leave her there, alone, no matter how much her insides were screaming at her to make him stay. She bit down on her already tender lip and nodded as if to tell him _go;_ _don't worry about me_.

"Tseng," Elena said suddenly as he began walking. He paused, turning to look at her over his shoulder. "Be careful."

 _"Be careful, Tseng."_ His mind flashed back to the Temple of the Ancients, to when Elena had told him to be careful before she left to report to Rufus. Minutes later, he was lying on the floor with Sephiroth walking away from him, blood dripping from his blade as he laughed at the weakness of Shinra's finest.

Tseng nodded only slightly, lingering a brief moment before disappearing into the darkness.

_-x-_


	6. Chapter 6

Tseng's body was met by cold air and he missed the warmth of Elena against him as he picked his way forwards into the blackness. He felt rather light headed and nauseous but managed to move virtually noiselessly through the foliage and towards the headlights. It crossed his mind that he would have to remember his path carefully if he was to ever find his way back to Elena and endeavoured to walk in a more or less straight line, strafing every so often behind a nearby trunk when the lights were shining directly at him to avoid being seen. What might become of Elena if he didn't make it back was not something he wanted to think about.

Once he was at the side of the road, just ahead of the oncoming vehicle, Tseng crouched down in the ditch that ran alongside the dirt track. He was uncomfortably aware that he had no weapon with which to defend himself, and right then there was nothing he would have liked better than to be presented with the opportunity to blow the Remnants' brains out. He knew, however, that he couldn't afford to be distracted by foolish, animal thoughts when he would only have a moment in which to judge whether or not the oncoming vehicle was safe to flag down. As it moved level with Tseng, he could see that it was in fact a four by four pickup truck, and that only one person was inside. The driver was holding the steering wheel with one hand and seemed to be concentrating hard on scrutinising the surrounding trees. The claw-like features of his other hand would have been greatly unnerving if they weren't so oddly familiar.

_Vincent Valentine._

Although Tseng could make out little more than the driver's silhouette, especially since his eyes were struggling to adjust to the darkness after being confronted with the truck's headlights, there was no mistaking the long mane of hair and gold-plated hand that belonged to the former Turk. They had met on enough occasions since Vincent's 'awakening' for Tseng to recognise those distinctive features. Tseng propelled himself up and out of the ditch and all but fell forward against the side of the truck, his hands slamming down against the window to both get Vincent's attention and to stop himself from falling any further.

Vincent's eyes widened in shock and he reached instinctively for his gun on the passenger seat as he braked abruptly. As he took aim at the figure outside the window, his eyes narrowed contemplatively and he seemed to tentatively relax as he recognised, with some surprise, who it was. Lowering his weapon but retaining a loose grip on it, Vincent opened the window.

The two men simply looked at each other for a moment, their expressions perfect mirror images; a coupling of simultaneous relief and disbelief.

"Tseng?"

"Vincent…"

"What's happened?" Vincent frowned, eyeing the blood that stained one side of Tseng's face and trailed down his neck. He looked uncharacteristically dishevelled, his eyes tired and deathly serious, his mouth a tight, worried line.

"The Remnants," Tseng replied, his voice not as level as Vincent remembered it to be. It had been a while since he had spoken to the leader of the Turks, a man whom he had once known quite well, even if only for a brief period of time. And he had liked Tseng.

"You were at the Crater this morning?" Vincent raised his eyebrows.

"Yes," Tseng nodded once. "How did you know?"

"I've been… keeping an eye on the brothers for a while now. I'd followed them in the direction of the Crater this morning but lost them – and then I heard gunfire and a helicopter. I've suspected they have a hideout around here somewhere for some time – I get the impression they're up to something." He paused, considering the wounded Turk for a moment. "And it seems they are." Tseng might not have been fully with it but he knew what Vincent was getting at; _and you obviously have reason to think so, too._

"They're using an old Shinra observation base not far from here," Tseng replied, sidestepping the indirect question. "That's where they took us."

"Us?"

"Elena and myself." Tseng paused a moment, frustrated at himself for not being as articulate as he was normally. "We managed to escape a few hours ago but… Elena's badly hurt." When it came down to business, Vincent recalled Tseng as being one to always 'tell it as it was', and judging by the unmistakable hue of worry that overshadowed his usually controlled expression, the former Turk was inclined to think that 'badly hurt' really did mean badly hurt.

Vincent turned off the engine, leaving the headlights on, and leaned over to fetch a torch out of the glove compartment. He got out of the truck, his expression suggesting that any further explanations could wait. Tseng nodded slightly, appreciative of Vincent's unspoken offer of help.

Finding the way back to where he had left Elena was easier than Tseng had thought, despite that the few minutes it took to retrace his steps felt like an agonising eternity. It was unlikely that he had left Elena for much longer than five to ten minutes but it somehow felt entirely too long, and Tseng's heart was pounding loudly enough in his ears to drown out the sounds of himself and Vincent pushing their way through the undergrowth.

The beam of light from Vincent's torch hit upon Elena's slight form, still sitting slumped against the tree.

"Elena," Tseng muttered, crouching down to her. No answer. Tseng could feel his heart pulsing ever harder as he touched two fingers to her neck, his other hand cupping the side of her head. Vincent appeared beside Tseng, releasing a breath as Elena opened her eyes; she was still alive. She blinked a few times, reorienting herself. It took a moment for her to realise that someone was holding a light, and that that someone wasn't Tseng. And whoever, or _whatever_ , it was looked to have not fingers but _claws_ that glinted gold in the light. Elena wouldn't have been surprised to learn that the loss of blood, exhaustion and knocks to the head meant she was beginning to see things that weren't there but, right at that moment, her instincts were climbing the proverbial walls.

"Tseng…?" she began cautiously, attempting to sit up from her slouched position using her arms to manoeuvre her body. Elena promptly gave up when her left arm seemed to have completely lost its strength and the slightest movement of her other arm sent waves of pain radiating from the bullet wound. Failing that, she felt the urge to reach for her gun as if on automatic, stopping herself as she remembered that Loz had kicked it from her hands back at the Crater.

"Don't," Tseng warned in response to her trying to move, his hand appearing on her left shoulder. "I… bumped into an old colleague," he continued in answer to the slightly panicked, questioning look on her face. "Vincent Valentine." As if on cue, Vincent crouched beside Tseng, nodding slightly by way of greeting as Elena's eyes drifted upwards to look at him. So she hadn't been seeing things as far as those claws were concerned. Relaxing somewhat, her lips formed about as much of a smile as she could manage. She was too out of it to think about what the chances of meeting anyone out there, let alone someone they knew, must have been.

Vincent's eyes found their way from her face down to the small, ragged hole in her blazer, not far below the right shoulder; the darkened fabric around it was visible even in the torchlight, and the makeshift bandages were just noticeable through the open collar of her blouse. Vincent wondered how the both of them had even managed to survive their run in with the Remnants, let alone make it this far. Elena could feel those inhuman yet somehow infinitely expressive red eyes scrutinising her and averted her gaze, unable to help but feel self-conscious and annoyingly helpless.

Tseng could see from Vincent's face that he was already forming questions in his mind about what had happened, and why, but seemed to decide not to pursue them there and then; rather, he appeared to be more concerned about Elena.

"Do you have a phone?" Tseng asked suddenly. It occurred to him that the sooner he could call Reno, the sooner he could pick them up and get them to a hospital. Vincent hesitated, then shook his head slightly.

"Not on me. I have a satellite phone back at home – about half an hour's drive from here." He returned his attention to Elena, who looked as if she was ready to pass out.

"I can take you both back to my place. I'll do what I can for her – for you – and you can call your colleagues from there," said Vincent after another short pause. Tseng nodded in agreement, the corners of his mouth tightening into a gesture of appreciation. He leaned forward over Elena, about to lift her, when Vincent laid a hand on his shoulder. Tseng glanced inquisitively at Vincent, whose eyes darted briefly to Tseng's head wounds. "You're in no fit state," he pointed out quietly. Before Tseng could reply, Vincent had handed him the torch and was bending over Elena, gently scooping her up in his arms with considerable ease. He then stood up and turned to face Tseng, who dipped his head in agreement. It was rare that Tseng felt so powerless, and it wasn't a feeling he wished to become all too familiar with.

_-x-_

_Elena paced around, hands relaxed by her sides as she surveyed the area. Focussing on the task at hand was generally the best way of keeping the nerves tightly bundled away in a corner. Mist hung ominously in the air above, thick enough to obscure the hovering helicopter. The sound of it was oddly reassuring, as though the outside world were not quite so far away as it otherwise would have been. The rocky interior of the Crater would have been the perfect hiding place for any enemies, although it seemed unlikely that any creature would want to inhabit such an environment. As a Turk, however, Elena knew to be on alert despite appearances._

_She glanced over at Tseng every now and then, her eyes lingering on him as she watched the way his muscles moved under his immaculate blazer, the way his sleek black hair rested on his back, a few strands falling over his shoulders as he concentrated on sealing the remains of Jenova's head into a container. They had hardly said two words to each other since boarding the helicopter to fly out to the Northern Crater. If Reno had been suspicious of something going on between them before, he certainly would be now._

_Ironically, Elena was almost glad that she was tasked with keeping watch whilst Tseng collected what was left of Jenova's head; it meant that she had to concentrate on the job and had less of an opportunity to let her emotions run rings around her, or to think about Tseng's earlier tirade that was still echoing in her head. She released a deep breath, wondering how it was possible to hurt as much she did just then. The possibility had always been there, lurking somewhere at the back of her mind, that he wasn't interested in her, that the affections she had for him were not mutual. Their relationship was a close one in many respects; they were partners and shared an understanding that went beyond that of any conventional friendship, as did Reno and Rude. And then yesterday, in the office… Elena released a deflated sigh and rolled her eyes, deeply irritated at the effect Tseng had on her._

_She was only a short distance behind Tseng when he rose to his feet, the container in one hand. "Reno, the chopper," he ordered._

_"You got it," came Reno's voice through both Tseng and Elena's earpieces._

_It was really only by chance that Elena glimpsed a flash of metal up ahead. At the same time, Tseng turned in her direction, about to move towards the open space where the helicopter had originally dropped them off. He was looking down at the container as he finished closing it properly and was thus oblivious to the figure lurking amongst the rocks in the distance behind him. Elena's eyes widened as she caught sight of the silver-haired man pointing a gun in their direction. She had a horrible, sinking feeling that he was about to shoot and in that moment, the thought went through her mind that Tseng would never react to a warning in time; the weapon was aimed straight at him. Elena launched herself forward at her boss, her arms outstretched to push him over and out of the way of the oncoming bullet._

_As the gunshot echoed around the crater, an alarmed expression of realisation came over Tseng's face as Elena threw herself at him hard enough to knock him off balance and over backwards. Something wet sprayed lightly over his left cheek as they fell, hitting the ground hard with Elena landing directly on top of him. Tseng lay still for a brief moment, slightly winded yet otherwise unscathed. The shot had missed him; Elena had reacted in time, and saved his life._

_"Elena," Tseng breathed, wondering why she made no attempt to get up from her position on top of him. Her left shoulder was practically resting on his chin, with a few strands of her hair over his face. He knew that they probably didn't have very long before the shooter either tried again or was upon them. "Elena," he repeated, grabbing her upper arm with one hand and pushing himself up onto his elbows with the other. A slight groan escaped her as he forced himself into a sitting position, bringing her up with him. Anxiety built in his chest as he saw that something was wrong; her face was pained, eyes fixed on some distant point, lips parted slightly. With his free hand he wiped his cheek suddenly, aware of a faint tickling sensation on his skin. And that was when he saw the blood on her blouse, his eyes drawn over to the small, ominous hole in her blazer over the upper right side of her chest. He removed his fingers from his face and glanced at their tips, swallowing as he realised that the wetness on his face was also blood. Elena's blood._

_Their eyes met, both knowing that they had to move fast. Tseng got quickly to his feet, the container in one hand, and Elena's arm in the other. She scrambled up with Tseng's help, gritting her teeth and wincing as the shock of the hit began to wear off and white-hot, paralysing pain throbbed through her chest and shoulder._

_"Whoa whoa whoa!" Reno exclaimed over the radio as more gunshots echoed around the crater. The first missed Tseng and Elena completely, the other ricocheted off the rock only a few metres from them._

_"Reno, hurry!" Elena shouted breathlessly, feeling Tseng's hand gripping the underside of her upper arm hard as he pushed her forwards into a run. The physical contact with him was somehow so intimate after the distinctly glacial way he had behaved towards her since she had arrived at work that morning. The chopper was now visible, descending roughly fifty metres from them. She reached for her gun as they fled, knowing that Tseng would have to let go of her if he was to make it back to the chopper with the container before the silver-haired assailants were upon them._

_"What the hell was that?" Reno demanded to know. His answer came only in the form of more gunshots, one of them hitting the helicopter._

_Elena was aware of Tseng throwing a glance behind them, his eyes widening with the realisation that the Remnants were closing in. The sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach flared as her legs buckled under her, unable to keep up with Tseng's vigorous pace._

_"Elena!" he yelled, coming to a skidding halt as he spun to face her, one hand outstretched to her. Lying on her front, her eyes staring imploringly into his, she shook her head. "I'll cover you," she mouthed, rolling onto her back, weapon clasped tightly in both hands. Tseng's gaze switched to the rapidly approaching brothers, knowing and hating that she was right. He considered the box in his hand; the mission. The mission took priority over everything else, and it was imperative in this case that Jenova's remains did not fall into the wrong hands._

_Tseng ran for the helicopter that was still a good few feet from the ground, fighting not to look back at Elena. The sound of more shooting ensued and he could only hope that she would still be in one piece by the time he got back to her. He lobbed the black container at the open side door of the chopper and paused a moment to watch as it landed safely inside with a clunk, sliding across the floor and out of sight. Without a second thought, he turned on his heel and rushed back the way he had come._

_Elena was hastily trying to reload when one of the three descended upon her, kicking the weapon out of her hands and hauling her up like a rag doll by the lapels of her blazer. The other two charged past her and towards the helicopter, clearly determined to retrieve the container._

_"G-get out," Elena breathed, just before her captor yanked the earpiece from her. Tseng fired at the two Remnants heading for him and the helicopter, resulting in them splitting in opposite directions, moving with unimaginable speed and dexterity. The longer haired of the two vaulted up off the nearby rocks and landed only just short of the chopper, forcing Reno to ascend sharply. Tseng fired at both Remnants numerous times but they were just too fast._

_Tseng silently willed Reno to go; he had to for the sake of the mission. The helicopter was hovering just out of reach of the two Remnants but Reno was forced to move higher still as they opened fire, aiming for the fuel tank. Forfeiting the mission simply was not an option; he would have to leave Tseng and Elena behind._

_Seeing that the other two were still intent on shooting the now invisible chopper out of the misty air, Tseng turned back to Elena and took aim at the Remnant who was trying to keep a grip on her. As an experienced pilot, Reno would be able to make a hasty retreat in the helicopter, Tseng reasoned, and the Remnants were firing blindly anyway. Elena, on the other hand, would stand little chance against the well-built Remnant, especially after being shot. Tseng hesitated, fearing that he might inadvertently hit the female Turk given her close proximity to his target, and that was all the time her assailant needed to spin her around and slide his arms under hers, holding her in front of himself as a human shield. The grim, inescapable thought planted itself in Tseng's mind that this was only the beginning; had it been his intention, the Remnant could have effortlessly killed Elena in an instant. But he hadn't because he was choosing not to_ ; _because she – and ultimately Tseng himself – would be useful._

_Tseng heard something behind him and whipped round to come face to face with the tallest of the Remnants. Tseng evaded the blow aimed at his head but felt the breeze against his cheek that followed in the wake of the Remnant's fist. He blocked the Remnant's second attack on him, losing his grip on his gun in the process, and returned with a powerful side kick that caught the underside of the silver-haired man's chin. He stumbled slightly, lifting one hand to nurse his jaw. The grin that spread across his face, however, sent a chill down Tseng's spine. The Turk had been too busy trying to defend himself to even see the third Remnant summersault from behind his comrade to land behind Tseng. Not that there would have been much to see, given that they were able to move at speeds beyond that of any other living creature. Tseng turned, but could never have reacted quickly enough to deflect the blow aimed at the side of his head. His unconscious body flew sideways with such force that at least a full second passed before he hit the ground._

_-x-_

It was only when the truck came to a halt with a mild jolt that Tseng realised he had fallen asleep. He blinked hard a few times, inwardly unimpressed that he had allowed himself to relax to quite that extent. Despite that he knew his body was desperate for rest, he did not consider himself and Elena to be entirely out of harm's way just yet. He might have trusted Vincent but, as the senior Turk operative, he held himself entirely responsible for his and Elena's safety. That was just how it was.

"You're awake," Vincent remarked, something of an undertone of understanding in his voice. "Good. I'll need you to open the front door." He took the key from the truck's ignition and handed it to Tseng. There was only one other key on the sliver-coloured key ring, which Tseng presumed must have been to Vincent's home.

Vincent had parked the truck in front of what looked like a small hunting lodge. The place was shrouded in darkness, with the exception of a dim porch light, and surrounded closely by trees on three out of four sides, rendering it well hidden. Tseng twisted round to spare a glance over his shoulder at the back seat upon which Elena was lying. Vincent had covered her with his cloak after helping her into the back, and, like Tseng, she seemed to also have fallen asleep. Or unconscious.

"What happened?" Vincent asked suddenly. Tseng sensed Vincent's eyes on him, and faced forwards once more.

"She was shot back at the Crater," Tseng replied grimly, closing his eyes as he remembered Elena leaping at him from out of the blue, the weight of her body pushing him backwards, the way her arms had closed protectively around him as they fell to the ground. It would have been a welcome touch, under different circumstances. _Entirely_ different circumstances. Had she known the bullet would hit her? Tseng pinched the bridge of his nose, dismissing the probing and almost suggestive expression on Vincent's face as being his imagination. "I… was no match for Kadaj and Yazoo," he shook his head. "They took us back to their hideout and when I came to they had already… started on Elena."

Tseng knew that Vincent would be inwardly asking himself why the Remnants had captured them in the first place, and why they would want to subject them to torture. Although Vincent didn't enquire further, Tseng expected that he would be doing so later. And perhaps it would not have been a bad idea to – selectively, mind – enlighten him somewhat. After all, it would probably be only a matter of time before the brothers got their hands on Jenova, at which point all hell would break loose, quite literally. If anyone stood a chance of putting up resistance, it was Vincent and his 'special', Mako-enhanced friend, Cloud.

Vincent opened the door and got out of the truck, bending slightly to look at Tseng with his metal hand resting on the doorframe of the vehicle. "You can fill me in later," he replied, as if having read Tseng's mind. It was a fair enough deal; Vincent's help in exchange for information. It was probably the only currency in the world that thrived off of disaster and never lost its value, unlike what had happened to the Gil after meteor hit. Tseng held Vincent's gaze for a moment, then gave a brief nod. _Deal._


	7. Chapter 7

_Home_ could be an ambiguous word. Despite that it had been nearly twelve years since Tseng had left Wutai, it would always be the place he thought of when asked where his _home_ was; being a Turk and being Wutain were not as mutually exclusive as most Wutains liked to think. For many years, Tseng's apartment in Midgar had been _a_ home; it was where he returned most evenings and woke up most mornings, and it was somewhere to call his own. The Honeybee Inn had been a so-called second home to Reno, and to Jack Shinra. Either way, home was generally a place where a person spent a reasonable amount of time. Valentine, Tseng mused as he battled with the front door of the hunting lodge, clearly had other ideas about what fell under the umbrella term _home_.

Water must have found its way through the porch roof and to the door, since the bottom had clearly swelled enough to cause it to stick. After finally shoving it open, Tseng found himself staring into the darkness of the lodge. A musty, woody smell greeted him as he stepped cautiously inside, one hand fumbling around the wall on first the left, and then the right hand side of the door in search of a light switch. His fingers hit upon something that jutted from the smooth wood of the interior and, with the application of more force than Tseng had anticipated would be necessary, two wall lights came on. They were even dimmer than the porch light outside and were, at a guess, at least as old as Vincent himself, if not older. Still, they illuminated the more or less open plan lodge enough to see that really, there wasn't much to see. The front door opened onto a living area – or what was meant to be a living area – which comprised of a solitary, nondescript couch and a long bookshelf packed with leather-bound books that had the appearance of being nothing short of ancient. Another, rectangular-shaped object – possibly a chest or trunk – was covered in a dustsheet. The farthest quarter of the room was taken up by the kitchen; a few wooden units, cupboards, a long kitchen table with only two chairs, and a fridge that Tseng doubted was still functional. Not that a fridge was really necessary, given the temperature in the lodge. There were two doors at the side of the room, which probably led to bedrooms and a bathroom.

The place wasn't filthy, Tseng noted, just rough around the edges in a way that gave him the impression no one spent very much time there. There were no personal effects or signs of it being actually _lived_ in. But then this was Vincent Valentine, who could not be strictly categorised as being _alive_ in the true sense of the word.

Tseng turned around and stepped back out onto the porch, anxious to keep an eye on Elena. A disparaging voice in his head poked him with the question as to whether this anxiety was more personal than professional. No matter what he would have liked to answer, Tseng knew that it would have been a downright lie to even think about protesting professionalism.

Vincent climbed the shallow steps up to the porch, the wounded Turk cradled in his arms. It was almost heartening to see a creature so capable of violence behaving with such gentleness. Tseng held the front door open as Vincent entered the lodge, moving sideways through the doorway to avoid catching Elena's head or legs on the doorframe. Once inside he stopped a moment and looked first to the kitchen, and then at the couch. He set off towards the kitchen, heading straight for the table. Manoeuvring Elena's limp form as though she weighed little more than a child, Vincent gently sat her down on the edge of the table, holding her upright with an arm around her waist.

"There's better light in here," Vincent explained plainly, nodding to a light switch beside the fridge. The couch or even one of the bedrooms might have been the more obvious choice of places to lay Elena down but Vincent, ever the detached pragmatist, was driven by logic and not by any reservations most people would have had about selecting the kitchen table. It provided him with easy access to her injuries – the bed would have been too low down, and the backrest of the sofa would have got in the way – and was within a short distance of his medical supplies and a sink. An ageing mattress and feather-pillow might have been more comfortable but they were not going to save her life. Unperturbed, Tseng gave a brief nod and flicked the switch, turning on the light that hung above the table.

Just as Vincent had said, the kitchen light was a vast improvement on the pitiful lighting of the living area. It also, however, made it clear to Tseng just how pale Elena was. He reasoned that her skin would look white in comparison to the blood and bruising on her face, as well as against the black of Vincent's shirt, but no amount of optimism could silence the knowledge that it was an indication of how much blood she had lost.

Elena placed her left hand down on the surface of the table to try to hold herself up but Vincent's grip around her waist held her firmly against him. "I'm going to take your blazer off," he informed her, effortlessly ignoring her vague efforts to sit unsupported. The texture of his voice had a depth to it that could not sound fazed even if he tried. Using his metal hand with as much dexterity as he did his other, Vincent removed Elena's blazer with little difficulty and discarded it over the back of the nearby chair without even turning to look. He then stooped slightly, sliding one hand behind Elena's knees to lift her legs up and push them round so that she was lying the length of the table, high-heeled boots hanging over the end. Tseng caught the resigned look on her face as she seemed to decide to just go along with whatever was happening, too weak to do otherwise. Or maybe it wasn't resignation, he reconsidered. Maybe it was fear.

"Fetch yourself some water," Vincent instructed Tseng, without turning to face him. Instead, he began unbuttoning Elena's blouse. "The tap water's safe to drink; it comes from a spring not too far away."

Tseng took a step towards the sink as commanded, as if he had just gone back nearly ten years to the time he had worked under Vincent and Veld in Shinra's clamp down on Avalanche. Veld had awakened Vincent, his former partner, to assist them with the mission and it was an almost unspoken rule that Vincent was Tseng's superior for the duration of the assignment. People did not just cease to become Turks even if they could, like Vincent, cease to become people. Tseng picked up a glass that was on the draining board, knowing that he was dehydrated. It certainly had been a long time since he had taken orders from anyone other than Rufus Shinra, or prior to that, Jack Shinra and General Heidegger.

"And the satellite phone is in the room just through that door," Vincent added, seemingly oblivious to Tseng's hesitation. "The co-ordinates for this place should be written on the pad next to the phone." Tseng frowned, unwilling to unquestioningly accept that Vincent was so over-organised that he knew the GPS co-ordinates of a place he appeared to spend little time in. "It's an old Shinra safe house," Vincent elaborated, as if he could _hear_ the expression of mild intrigue on Tseng's face; either that or Hojo had given him eyes in the back of his head, for Vincent had not once turned to look at the Turk Director. "I've been staying here on and off for a little while – it's a base from which I can keep an eye on the Remnants."

Tseng nodded vaguely as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. All safe houses came with GPS co-ordinates and a satellite phone, making it easy for a rescue team to pinpoint stranded members of SOLDIER or the Turks. He gulped down the glass of water he had filled from the tap, finding that the more he drank the thirstier he became. He downed one more glass before setting it aside.

Vincent left Elena and went over to one of the kitchen drawers, taking from it a pair of scissors. From the cupboard above he fetched out a faded green zippered bag. He opened it, revealing an array of small bottles, bandages and dressings, all sealed in their original plastic wrapping. Tseng assumed that Vincent would have received the advanced first aid training that all Turks did, though he reminded himself that that would have been a _long_ time ago. And the fact that Vincent was not technically one of them any more, and hadn't been for a considerable amount of time, did not sit entirely right with Tseng even if his gut instinct was to trust him. He _needed_ to make that phone call and Vincent, so far, was showing every sign of being dependable.

Tseng began to move in the direction of the door Vincent had directed him to, stopping as he drew level with Elena. "You'll be all right?" he raised an eyebrow, directing the enquiry more at Elena than at Vincent. Elena's tired eyes looked at him as if to say, ' _You're not seriously offering to start hand-holding, are you?_ ' It didn't take great interpersonal skills to know that she was still angry, or more accurately, _hurting_ after the way he had treated her. And who would blame her? Or perhaps that was just his own cynicism interpreting things there; after all, Tseng was not quite the hand-holding type.

"We'll be fine," Vincent nodded, returning to the table with the scissors to cut away the blood-soaked, makeshift bandages.

_-x-_

The phone took a while to connect but eventually, Reno's PHS began to ring. Tseng was just thankful that he had Reno's number memorised; he had to dial it often enough and was thus accustomed to it flashing up on his screen below Reno's name. With every ring, Tseng found himself wondering whether or not Kadaj had gone to Healin. _Of course he has,_ he thought, sighing. _It would be the logical thing to do in his position._ Reno and Rude were good, far above average mortal standards, but Kadaj had an edge that no human could better, as his pounding headache and slightly blurred vision had been telling him for the past few hours.

A click on the other end of the line, and it was clear that someone had answered the phone. "Yes?" a strained, almost hesitant voice answered. It was unlike Reno to answer his phone to an unknown number without some sarcastic remark about telesales rolling off his tongue. It was as if he were expecting a call from someone he would rather not talk to, or from someone who would deliver him news he did not wish to hear. Tseng had to admit that it was still oddly reassuring to hear that he was at least still alive.

"Reno," Tseng replied, doubting that his voice sounded much different to the redhead's just then.

"Tseng?" Reno sounded relieved. "Are you okay? Where are you?"

"At a Shinra safe house, not too far from the Forgotten City," Tseng answered. "And the President?"

"Everything's under control, Tseng," Reno said quickly, and Tseng heard him take a breath ready to say, or probably ask, something else. But Tseng cut him off.

"That doesn't answer my question," Tseng pressed. He knew Reno's inventory of brief, unrevealing answers to such inquiries all too well. And 'everything's under control' coming from Reno's lips could mean absolutely anything.

"Kadaj came to see Rufus," Reno gave in, sounding even more strained than he had before. "All you need to know is that Rufus is unharmed, and we still have Jenova." _For now._

Tseng said nothing in response, though closed his eyes briefly as a fraction of the weight lifted from his chest.

"So what happened? You're both okay?" Reno went on. He had clearly been worried, and Tseng knew that under the thick surface layer of arrogant sarcasm and hard-man indifference was someone who was very attached to his colleagues. They all were. "Tseng?"

"We managed to escape," Tseng replied, knowing that his moment's hesitation had set alarm bells ringing in Reno's head. "But not before they had a chance to try their interrogation skills. I need you to pick us up ASAP, preferably with a medic."

"Is there something you're not telling me?"

 _There's a lot I don't tell you Reno,_ was the reply that went through Tseng's mind. Under normal circumstances, he might even have said it but somehow humour – even Tseng's dry humour that was usually swiftly delivered without the faintest trace of a smile – felt completely inappropriate.

"Just make it quick, Reno, all right?" said Tseng, with something of a beseeching undertone. "Elena's not in good shape." He proceeded to read out the GPS coordinates scrawled on the pad beside the phone before Reno had the chance to say, or ask, anything else.

"We'll be a couple of hours tops," Reno promised.

Through the door that he had left ajar, Tseng heard the unmistakable sound of coughing, followed by the muffled, low frequency of Vincent's voice; a few, indistinguishable words. The pragmatist in him wondered bluntly how long it would be before Elena's lungs simply packed up, or before she lost too much blood. Less than a couple of hours? Tseng frowned and banished the thought from his mind. He needed to stay calm and focussed; fear could rip a person to shreds from the inside out, and there was no denying he was afraid. Afraid for Elena. Afraid of _losing_ Elena. It was a weakness but one worth having, he thought, unlike his fear of heights. And Tseng was the sort of man who would stand on the roof of the old Shinra HQ in Midgar every evening before he left to go home, up close and personal to the chest-high railings. Even the best had weaknesses, he used to tell himself; it was simply a question of whether you allowed them to control you.

_-x-_

Vincent had drawn up a chair to the kitchen table and was sitting perched on the edge. On another chair beside him was a bowl of blood-tinged water, the open first aid kit, scissors and a heap of bloody fabric that Tseng guessed was the temporary bandage he had made from his shirt.

"You got through?" Vincent inquired, his back to Tseng as he finished dressing Elena's shoulder.

"Yes," Tseng replied. "Reno should be here in a few hours."

Tseng was now standing just behind Vincent's chair, looking over his shoulder at Elena. She was still conscious, he noticed, but her eyes were out of focus and fixed on some distant point as she concentrated on taking measured, shallow breaths.

"I've cleaned the wound," said Vincent, "but there's little else I can do for her; the bullet's too deep for me to get it out." He stood up and gathered the old swabs and bandages from the chair beside him, heading for the bin. "Well, not without doing her more harm than good at this point," he added as an afterthought, turning back to the table and returning to his chair. "She's got a slight fever, though the wound doesn't seem to be infected; I'm tempted to think she has pneumonia."

Vincent glanced at Tseng questioningly, as though he presumed Tseng ought to know something about that. Tseng sighed, then nodded soberly.

"A common side effect of water boarding," he muttered, his mind's eye unable to ignore the image of Loz and Yazoo with Elena in the observation base.

"I see," Vincent's eyes dropped. He turned back to Elena and began to gently wipe the blood from her face and neck with a swab soaked in antiseptic. "You should probably sit down," he suggested. "You're looking rather pale."

Tseng wasn't sure what it was that made him think it but, on some level, he was fairly certain that Vincent was alluding to more than just Tseng's physical state; as though there were some _other_ reason the colour had drained from the Turk Director's face. The problem with Turks – former or current – was that they all had one thing in common; they were perceptive and naturally suspicious. Annoyingly so. The sort of people who could find an ulterior motive in a field mouse.

Sinking down onto the end of the couch nearest the kitchen, Tseng glanced at his watch. It was coming up to midnight. He leaned back only to sit forward again, too uptight to relax as his body so wanted to. Something in his chest wanted to be over there with Elena, to take charge of the situation. She was _his_ Turk, his responsibility. It was like a dam was cracking somewhere inside him, threatening to let his emotions spill out. He rested his elbows on his knees and supported his chin on his clasped hands, his eyes finding their way to Elena's face. The lifeless expression she wore was jarringly reminiscent of those Turks he had lost on the job in the past.

_-x-_

_As first days went, this one had been rather uneventful. Elena had been introduced to her colleagues, who she already knew by name and by face, was shown to her desk in the office she would share with Reno and Rude, and had been told that, of all people, Tseng would be her partner in addition to being her direct superior. That piece of news had been simultaneously thrilling and utterly nerve-wracking. Thrilling because he was everything she thought a Turk should be: eloquent, masterful, slightly aloof and somehow god-like in the way he held himself. Sharp, yet subtle; the kind of man who wouldn't take a sledgehammer to crack a nut because it was just so unnecessarily inept. Nerve-wracking because pressure wouldn't even begin to cover how it would feel to work with such a man._

_She was leaning forwards, forearms resting on the steel railings on the roof of the Shinra HQ. Midgar's upper plate stretched out a long way, merging gradually into darkness that was the barren land surrounding the city. The stars above were visible despite the greenish hue of pollution that lingered in the air, emanating from the eight reactors arranged circularly around Midgar, with the HQ sitting proudly in the centre. Elena had waited a long time for this view._

_"Quite a picture, isn't it?"_

_Elena jumped at the sound of a familiar voice behind her. Tseng._

_"S-sir," she found herself stuttering, tripping over her tongue for at least the tenth time that day. When she turned, she was surprised at how close he was standing. His navy suit looked black against the night sky; the warm glow that flared from the dim floor lights, which were dotted evenly around the raised perimeter of the roof, failed to reach him. "Um, yes," she replied eventually, recalling that he had, in fact, asked her a question._

_"Tseng," he corrected, something of a smile on his shadowed features. Elena looked mildly confused for a moment, then returned his smile awkwardly. "I've not seen you up here before," he said after a pause, shifting slightly towards the railings but stopping before he actually reached them._

_"I didn't have an unlimited keycard before," she replied, relaxing enough to manage a genuine smile. She tucked her hair behind her ear, holding it there a moment as a gust of wind swept over the roof. "It kind of became a mission – to come up here. My father used to work for Shinra in the military academy, and he brought my sister and I up here once when we were young." Her eyes glazed over as she recalled that day; she would have been 12 years old, and her father had taken her and Dionne up there to show them the city. Her family were originally from Junon and had moved to Midgar when Shinra had decided to relocate their training facilities to the HQ. "My sister ran straight up to these railings," Elena reminisced, shaking her head and smoothing her hand along the metal. "But I was too scared. I didn't much care for heights."_

_"No?" Tseng raised an eyebrow._

_"Not one bit. Of course, my sister found it hilarious and teased me that I'd never make it to being a Turk if I couldn't stomach something as 'basic' as that. Which kind of made it something I had to do; come up here, and stand right at the edge. Just to prove her wrong." Elena looked down at the street below and grimaced. "It's kind of exhilarating, really. I don't know what I was so afraid of."_

_Elena turned to him, feeling suddenly that she might have said too much. "I suppose you think I'm silly," she sheepishly looked at her feet. Tseng laughed lightly._

_"On the contrary," he said, an expression on his face that Elena would have deemed knowing. She looked at him in slight disbelief, her eyes searching his as if hoping to encourage him to elaborate. In response, he just smiled, more with his eyes than with his lips._

_"Do you come up here often?" she inquired. Elena figured he would probably notice her attempt to approach the matter from a different angle; no one got past Tseng that easily. But it was still worth a try._

_"Most evenings," he replied, his eyes narrowing a fraction, smile deepening. He looked as though he were considering whether or not to humour her. "I consider it to be…" he trailed off and took a step forwards so that he was standing level with Elena at the railings. For a moment, his hands gripped the metal as he looked down to the street below. His knuckles were white; the one and_ only _indicator that he was ill at ease. "— Character-building to do things you're not so comfortable with," he finished, his hands relaxing as he moved back from the edge a fraction whilst remaining close enough so that he was still more or less level with Elena. "A promising trait in a Turk," he glanced at her with a hint of respect, as though pleasantly surprised to find common ground with his newest recruit. "After all, this job can push you far beyond the limits of your comfort zone."_

_Tseng straightened, turning to go back inside, when he paused. "There's just one thing," he said. Elena raised her eyebrows in anticipation. "Just don't tell Reno, or I'll never hear the end of it."_

_-x-_

Vincent was surprisingly gentle. His human hand was firm and steady, and moved with such care over her skin that it almost compensated for how deathly cold it was to the touch. Those red, demon-like eyes of his were focussed on what he was doing, the lower half of his face concealed by the high collar of his cloak. When Vincent moved the antiseptic-saturated swab over her left cheekbone, it stung viciously but she managed to refrain from making a sound. That hadn't been the case when he had tended to the bullet wound; it had felt as if he were boring a hole right through her chest with some kind of corrosive irritant. Tears had escaped down her face and it had taken every fibre of self-control she never knew she had not to shout the place down. Dionne had always derided her for being over-emotional and lacking in composure. And perhaps she was, some of the time. Elena was just glad Tseng had not been there to witness any of it. She felt embarrassed enough without adding tears to the equation. But the embarrassment was quickly fading, as was everything else – her vision, awareness – and fear was gradually taking its place, nagging at her with growing tenacity.

A movement to her left side and the brief rush of cool air against her arm broke her from her thoughts; Vincent was no longer there. She heard him move around the table, then hands pulled her blouse closed and fastened a few of the buttons. And he was gone once more.

"Elena." The voice belonged to Tseng. He was standing behind the chair where Vincent had been sitting a few moments ago. She hadn't heard him approach, but then she assumed most things that weren't pain-related were eluding her attention at the moment.

Elena swivelled her eyes to look up at him.

"Reno's on his way from Healin," Tseng said softly, taking a step to the side to move around the chair, and closer to her. Elena thought he looked like death, standing over her in his dark suit like the grim reaper, his skin a sickly shade of pale enough to rival Vincent's. The blood that had dried in streaks on the right side of his face had become a deep shade of red. It was the first time she had ever seen him look… fragile. He looked worn to the point of collapse, as though he had somehow taken a fierce beating beyond what the Remnants had dealt him – one that had left no marks on his body. Emotionally, Tseng was made of strong stuff; he wasn't the sort of man who broke down. At least, not in front of anybody. And any vaguely emotional displays from him always gave the impression of being precisely executed, as though he were still in control and was simply _allowing_ those around him to receive confirmation that, somewhere in his chest, existed a human heart. "He won't be too long," Tseng added, his fingertips resting on the edge of the table, inches from Elena's forearm. Elena might not have been able to see exactly where his hands were but she always knew when he was close on some intuitive level. When he would lean over her sitting at her desk to show her something on the computer, she was always acutely aware of his each and every move.

"You—" Elena began, swallowing hard to get rid of what was probably blood in her throat. Fingers curled around her forearm; he was holding onto her with both hands, slowly tightening his grip.

"Shh," he shook his head; a slight motion, only subtly authoritative. "Just breathe." His gaze wandered over her face, which, now that Vincent had cleaned most of the blood away, was visibly bruised and swollen in places, worse on one side than on the other. "I never meant to hurt you," he said suddenly, not quite bringing himself to look her in the eye. "Not like this." Inhaling deeply, he met her gaze. Hearing the creak of a door behind him, Tseng slowly let go of Elena and waited a moment before returning his hands to his sides, as though they had been occupied with something completely innocent. Tseng was far too well conditioned to jump at the sound of Vincent approaching and snap back into position in a way that would have been anything _but_ discreet. He turned slightly, his sore neck protesting as he looked over his shoulder to see Vincent coming from one of the bedrooms, a pillow and blanket in his arms.

Vincent arched an eyebrow ever so slightly as he moved around the table so that he was opposite Tseng. Some people might have thought Vincent unaware of a gesture that was so marginal, but not Tseng.

"I thought I told you to sit down," Vincent muttered, sliding an arm under Elena's shoulders to sit her up enough to place the pillow under her head.

"You did," Tseng replied, ignoring the order that was tucked into an otherwise simple observation. Vincent arranged the blanket over her before reaching for the first aid bag.

"So sit," Vincent nodded to the chair beside the table. Tseng sighed and then did as he had been asked. Vincent sat on the chair beside Tseng's and swivelled to face him, his eyes scrutinising the wounds on the side of the Turk leader's head. "Tilt your head into the light."

"I'm fine," Tseng replied, his tone soft in a way that suggested he was thankful for the concern even if he was rejecting it. Vincent simply raised a hand to Tseng's chin and, gently, applied enough pressure to get Tseng to move his head. Tseng complied, finding it almost a relief to let someone else take charge, even if only for an hour or two. It was an almost sinful kind of relief to his mind but, for once, he would have to just accept that he was lacking the sense of clarity required of a Turk Director.

"These need stitches," Vincent mused, "but I'll leave that to a professional." He set about cleaning the deeper of the gashes in the side of Tseng's head, the one that had probably been a result of Yazoo's pistol whipping. Tseng tensed only slightly as the wound stung, air catching between his teeth in a short hiss.

"Veld spoke highly of you," Vincent remarked as he worked. "He had decided back then – when he enlisted my help in dealing with Avalanche – that you would be his successor. It was your sense of humanity that sealed the deal, he said. You were loyal to the company – to the Turks – and efficient, but you weren't a heartless machine, like so many in our profession were. Not underneath, anyway."

Tseng raised an eyebrow, his neck becoming stiff from holding his head at an angle.

"Veld used to tell me that he considered those Turks and members of SOLDIER who lacked a conscience to be the most difficult to control; the most dangerous," Vincent went on. "They would be useful for a while, but a point always came when their ruthlessness became problematic for the company's image. That, and the fact that they would defect to a higher bidder if one came along."

"He used to talk a lot of sense, Veld," Tseng agreed after a short pause. "Although," he began, eyes finding Vincent's and locking onto them like a missile would its target, minus the hostility.

"Yes, look what happened to me," Vincent finished for him, his tone surprisingly conversational. He met Tseng's gaze, a seriousness on his face that trumped his usual sincere expression. "My conscience – no," he reconsidered, "my _humanity_ got me into trouble. Feelings, emotions, principles – I could have done without those when Hojo decided to use Lucrecia, and when she decided to go along with it. And you could probably have done without yours when you decided to help Zack Fair."

Tseng smiled mildly and blinked, taking the counterattack – which, in all honesty, was more of a tap than an attack – gracefully. He wondered briefly how Vincent had found out about that, and assumed that Veld must have known after all and, at some point, told Vincent even if he had quite clearly omitted to inform their superiors. If he had, Tseng knew with bitter certainty that he would have conveniently disappeared. _Of course he knew_ , Tseng smirked to himself. _Veld knew everything._

"Do you regret it?" Tseng asked.

"No," Vincent answered without hesitation. He sat back for a moment and took a fresh swab out of the first aid kit. "Do you?"

Tseng brought his head slowly back to its normal position, bringing one hand up to massage his neck.

"No," he replied eventually. "My only regret is that I didn't succeed." Vincent released a soft snort, lips curling into an understanding smile. "I suppose I don't count it as a true betrayal," Tseng continued. "I didn't technically work for Hojo, after all."

"Neither did I," Vincent sighed, nodding thoughtfully. "Technically." He held a dressing to Tseng's head with his metal hand and began taping it down with the other. Silence fell between them, and Tseng found himself looking at Elena lying on the table beside them. Her eyes were closed, which instantly sent a sickening surge of worry through his core. It was short-lived, for the rise and fall of her chest was just about visible; she was asleep. For her, it was probably more merciful than being conscious.

"Don't forget what it is to let yourself be guided by your feelings from time to time, Tseng," Vincent said quietly. Without moving his head, Tseng's eyes switched from Elena to Vincent. The former Turk was looking at him pensively – _knowingly_ – and then, almost demonstratively, he shifted his focus to Elena. "I don't have that privilege anymore, and life's short. For most people, that is." Vincent taped down the last side of the dressing and rose fluidly to his feet. "Now, what can you tell me about the Remnants?"

Tseng leaned back in his chair, Vincent's words still echoing in his mind. _He has a point_ , he thought to himself, finding it almost ironic that _Valentine_ had offered him relationship advice. At the same time, though, it was almost reassuring to hear something like that coming from him and it was as if the brief understanding he and Vincent had shared all those years ago had withstood the test of time.

"Not a great deal," Tseng admitted, resting his left arm on the edge of the table. "We cleared the area some time ago of what was left of Jenova, although we never recovered the head. Given that the Remnants seemed to be expressing a lot of interest in the Crater recently, we thought that perhaps they knew something we didn't; that maybe the head was still there. So, this morning, we went to have a look."

Tseng stopped, running his tongue briefly over his lower lip as he took a breath. "We found Jenova's head," he said, an element of regret in his voice. "Before the brothers intercepted us on our way out. Of course, we all know what happens if they get their hands on it."

Vincent nodded gravely, his mind clearly turning over a number of possible outcomes, none of them pleasant.

"Where is it now?" he asked. Tseng shrugged.

"In safe hands, for the time being. Kadaj has paid the President a visit but left empty handed."

"This time," Vincent muttered. Tseng grimaced in agreement, forcing himself to accept that Vincent was right. Kadaj and his brothers would be back to Healin before long and they would fully intend to leave either with Jenova's head, or with instructions as to where it could be found. And, at least for now, Tseng had absolutely no control over the situation. Rufus was shrewd; a smooth operator if ever there was one, and he was certainly more than capable of outwitting the Remnants even if he was in poor health. But if things turned violent, which they almost certainly would, Rufus would not stand a chance, and Reno and Rude would only be able to do so much. However, Tseng did not doubt that Rufus would be more than aware of this and suspected the young President would have some plan of action up his sleeve. That still did little to mollify Tseng's uneasiness for, as Reno put it, the Turk leader had never been much good at games of 'wait and see' or 'hope for the best'. No, Tseng was _far_ too much of a control-freak for those sorts of solutions. And that was precisely why Shinra hired him.

"Have you thought of trying to get in touch with Cloud?" Vincent suggested.

"Rufus had considered it, should things… get out of hand," Tseng nodded. Part of him secretly hoped Rufus had made the call. That did not, however, entail that Cloud would agree to anything.

"You should get some rest," Vincent changed the subject. He gestured to the couch with one hand. Tseng parted his lips as if to say something, when Vincent interrupted him. "I'll keep an eye on her."

_-x-_

The loud, penetrating sound of helicopter blades whirring brought Tseng from a restless, nightmare-wrought sleep. Although his body had passed the point of exhaustion, his head was throbbing so hard and he felt so nauseous that sleep came far from easily. Once he was fully awake, he realised by the pitch of the engine that the chopper had landed. He should have heard it sooner but Tseng had, albeit temporarily, given up on berating himself for not being as sharp as he was normally.

The front door was ajar and, from Tseng's position on the couch, Vincent was nowhere to be seen. Elena was still lying motionless on the table, her face turned away slightly. According to his watch, it was just past 2am; Reno's arrival estimation had been near enough accurate. Tseng sat up slowly, touching a cautious hand to the side of his head. He took a deep breath and sat for a moment, waiting for the room to stop swimming. Footsteps, more than one set, were approaching from outside, and Tseng managed to stand up before Vincent appeared in the doorway, Reno close behind.

Reno's gaze instantly fell upon Tseng, who hoped he was not wavering as much as he felt he was. Tseng was inwardly pleased to see him, although his expression became one of slight surprise as he looked at Reno's face.

"Tseng," Reno said by way of greeting, his face forming a relieved smile. His gaze, however, shifted awkwardly to the ground as Tseng's eyes studied him. Deep purple bruising had spread around Reno's right eye, prominent against his pale complexion. His right cheek was also reddened and scraped, as were his knuckles. Reno could always be relied upon to give as good as he got.

"What happened?" Tseng frowned, noticing that Reno's shirt was done up further than usual, probably to cover more bruising. His second-in-command looked fresh-faced enough, and was wearing a suit that looked as though it was clean on; Tseng would almost have said that Reno was making an effort to appear as though he were taking everything in his stride, which he probably was, near enough. Reno was as gristly in personality as he was in that skinny body of his, and a reliable acting director to the Turks.

"Kadaj likes to make an entrance," Reno replied casually, swatting a hand. "Nothing Rude and I couldn't handle." A seriousness came over him as he caught sight of Elena across the room, his attention lingering over her for a few seconds before returning to Tseng. "But forget about me – you look terrible." Reno's eyes were drawn to Elena once more. _And she looks even worse_ , was the rest of his sentence, which his face saved him from having to put into words.


	8. Chapter 8

"Did you bring someone with you?" Tseng asked. Reno broke his gaze from Elena and shook his head grimly.

"No – the doctor from the hospital clinic next door to us in Healin was out on a call," Reno replied, gesturing vaguely with one hand as if it might aid him in his explanation. "You know, the one Rufus sees for his Star Scar Syndrome. Lara." Reno didn't care too much for formalities and when it came to Geostigma, neither did Rufus himself. The President had smiled the first time Reno referred to his Geostigma as Star Scar Syndrome, remarking that it made the whole thing sound a little less stigmatised. "They said she wouldn't be back for at least an hour and no one else was available to come out. I guess at this time of night… well," Reno half shrugged with his left shoulder to save him the rest of his sentence. "I tried calling another clinic but had no luck, and I didn't want to waste too much time waiting around when you said about Elena."

Tseng gave a brief, understanding nod. Rufus went three to four times a week to the clinic next door to Shinra's base in Healin and as a result Tseng, who was Rufus' usual escort, was reasonably familiar with Dr Lara Stein. She had probably met with all of the Turks during the course of Rufus' ongoing treatment.

"I did manage to pick up a few things, though – charmed a nurse into lending me a medical bag. Bandages, painkillers, a bag of saline and some other stuff," Reno added, letting the rucksack slide off his shoulder. He caught it by the strap before it could hit the floor.

"She needs fluids," came Vincent's voice from near the doorway. "May I?" he nodded to the bag, stepping towards Reno. The Turk handed it to him without a word but waited until Vincent had taken the supplies before he shot Tseng a questioning glance. Reno's first aid skills might have erred on the rudimentary side despite the specialized training the Turks received, but Tseng was known to be very capable when it came to dealing with gunshot wounds and the like. His colleagues assumed it was down to field experience, given that the Turks were often in the line of fire.

"He knows what he's doing," Tseng muttered. "And his hands are probably steadier than mine."

They followed Vincent to the table, where he had set the bag down on a chair and was selecting the necessary equipment to make a drip.

" 'Lena?" Reno's voice was tentative, choked to the point of sounding almost pubescent. He was standing close to the table, looking down at Elena. Tseng would not have called Reno someone who suffered unbearable inner turmoil as a result of an over-active conscience but it was not due to the fact that Reno didn't _have_ one; it was simply that Reno had a particular knack for dealing with things. He just coped, even if his liver was usually the one to end up bearing the brunt of Reno's darker assignments. He would sometimes joke after an especially gut-wrenching job that the aftermath was nothing a few hours at the bar couldn't remedy. The destruction of the Sector 7 pillar, which caused part of the upper plate to crush one of Midgar's more densely populated slums, had been one such occasion, and Tseng had known at the time that it had pushed Reno to his limits. Outwardly, he had been more than occupied with recovering from the injuries he had received at the hands of AVALANCHE, who had desperately tried to stop Shinra from dropping the plate, as well as with tracking down Sephiroth and the Black Materia. But Tseng had caught the look of utter hopelessness on the younger Turk's face at brief intervals, when Reno had had a moment to himself. He wasn't as impervious to guilt as he liked to make out. And, just then, Tseng knew that Reno was blaming himself for the state Elena was in.

"Lucky that you bumped into Vincent," Reno muttered, more as an observation to himself than to Tseng.

"We owe him our lives," Tseng concurred sombrely, moving to stand beside Reno. He glanced at Vincent, but the former Turk seemed to be ignoring their hushed conversation as he concentrated. Reno swallowed, averting his head a fraction to one side so that Tseng could not see his face. "I'm going to say this once, Reno," Tseng went on, his tone adopting a sternness that made Reno visibly stiffen. "You made a decision back at the Crater – the right decision – and if you hadn't have done so yourself, then I would have done so for you."

Reno looked akin to a stubborn dog who was reluctantly submitting to his master despite his best efforts not to. He might have known that Tseng was right but that didn't mean he had to like it.

"I know," Reno sighed, relaxing a little. "I know." He finally turned to look at Tseng. "I… well, you know how it gets. Duty before colleagues and all that – it's not always… easy."

"No," Tseng replied darkly. Memories of the scenes with the Remnants back in the observation base played over in his mind for what might have been the hundredth time since their escape; memories of Loz forcing Elena's head into the trough, of him thumping her in between half drowning her; of Yazoo doing worse. "It's not easy."

A moment's silence fell between them, the only sounds being the faint, irregular rasping that was Elena breathing.

Tseng looked up once more to find Reno studying him. He realised how intensely he must have been staring at Elena, and this clearly had not escaped Reno's attention. Just then, however, Tseng found himself uncharacteristically unconcerned with what gossip material Reno might have been cooking up in his mind regarding the professionalism of his and Elena's relationship; his one and only concern was Elena's survival. "Rude is with the President?" Tseng assumed, feeling an urge to change the subject, even if there wasn't actually any talking going on. Silence, and eye contact, could sometimes speak volumes.

"Of course," Reno nodded. "And the sample is safe. Hidden in plain sight, if you like," he continued in anticipation of his boss' next question. "Although if I were Rufus, I don't think I'd like to have the much revered head of the Remnants' mummy dearest quite so up close and personal."

Tseng raised a curious eyebrow, his expression mildly suspicious.

"I can't find a vein," Vincent said suddenly. Tseng felt his heart throb in his chest.

"Try tightening the tourniquet," he advised, moving closer to Vincent. Vincent nodded in agreement and did as Tseng had suggested.

"Got it," he replied after a few moments. Tseng couldn't help but notice that Elena hadn't stirred throughout the entire procedure. He did not like to kid himself, and to assume that she was simply sleeping would have been to do just that. He was unsure of quite what was happening to himself but the reality of losing her was looming closer all the time, like a vulture circling above its next meal, waiting for it to hurry up and die so that it could satisfy itself, and it was a reality that touched him somewhere deep inside; in a place he had forgotten he had.

"Should I take her out to the chopper?" Reno asked, looking from Tseng to Vincent, and back to Tseng again. The urgency in his voice was almost audible, and Tseng knew then that the same thought must have crossed Reno's mind, too. Tseng gave an affirmative nod.

"Keep the blanket," Vincent added. "Not that it's strictly mine to give away."

Reno smirked briefly, even if it lacked the lustre Reno's facial expressions were usually laced with. He slid his arms carefully under Elena's body, moving with more caution than Tseng would have credited him with having. Vincent placed the bag of saline that was connected via a thin IV line to the inside of Elena's elbow in her lap once she was in Reno's arms. Straightening slowly, Reno turned towards the door and was about to set off when Elena's eyes opened a fraction.

"Reno?" Her voice was little more than a whisper, and it sounded as if talking might have been an altogether painful activity.

"Who else?" Reno smiled. "How'd you guess?"

"…Tacky aftershave," she said, swallowing. "Lots of it."

"Quantity over quality, 'Lena," Reno replied nonchalantly. He looked down at her, smile faltering as it appeared he did not quite have the heart to threaten to drop her should she continue to insult him. He began walking, nodding briefly to Vincent who held the front door open for him. Once out on the porch, Reno pivoted to look back at Vincent.

"Thanks," Reno tilted his head forwards slightly.

Vincent mirrored the gesture, his arms folded loosely across his chest.

Reno turned around and resumed walking. Elena coughed feebly as he did, a little blood finding its way past her lips.

"Watch the suit, yo," Tseng heard Reno try to joke. The sound of Elena coughing was increasingly making the Turk Director want to cringe. He paused as he came level with Vincent just inside the doorway, and together they stepped out onto the porch that was eerily bathed in silver moonlight. The side door of the helicopter was open and Reno was just about visible inside as he laid Elena down on the fixed bench that could double as a stretcher.

"I owe you more than I can ever repay you," Tseng said quietly. He turned to Vincent, who met his gaze. "But if there ever is anything, you know where to find me."

Vincent dipped his head in acknowledgement. A gentle breeze brushed against them and the door to the lodge fell all but closed behind them with the soft scrape of wood against wood as the swollen bottom of the door became wedged against the floor planks.

"Take care of yourself," Vincent replied as the helicopter blades slowly began rotating and the engine started, growing louder by the second.

"I will," Tseng nodded, having to shout above the roar of the helicopter. The blades had whipped the breeze into a full-blown gale. "Thank you," he mouthed, and then set off at a brisk walk towards the helicopter.

_-x-_

_Elena had, in the back of her mind, been expecting Reno to do_ something _to throw the guy off; after all, it was crucially important that neither of their targets realised they were under surveillance whilst the Turks were still relatively in the dark on their plans. Elena hadn't, however, anticipated that Reno would grab a handful of her hair with one hand, wrap the other around her waist, and close his lips over hers in a passionate kiss. It wasn't so much that she wouldn't put it past him but rather that she did not consider it to be the most obvious solution to their predicament. Personally, she would have started the car's engine and made a quick exit down the street._

_There had been the odd mission in the past where she and Reno had posed as a couple. She would always hope that Tseng would be her partner on such occasions as he could at least be relied upon to not get too actively into the role of the attentive boyfriend. And it's not as if she would have minded too much if he had. With a womanizer like Reno, however, anything was possible. Although to give credit where it was due, he had always more or less behaved himself, and had certainly never pulled a stunt like he was doing now when they weren't even pretending to be an item; they were simply waiting in the car as backup to Tseng and Rude._

_The assignment was to gain more intelligence on both an anti-Shinra terrorist group, as well as their black market arms dealer who had been supplying them with weapons and explosives. They had gotten wind of a meeting between representatives of both groups at a bar in Edge, and Rude and Tseng were primarily there to find out what they could by posing as patrons inside the bar, whilst Reno and Elena were on hand outside should their assistance be required. It might have seemed a heavy-handed approach to send all four Turks just to gather information, but heavy-handed was the only approach Rufus was acquainted with when it came to anything remotely anti-Shinra._

_Elena's eyes glanced at the digital clock on the car's dashboard for the umpteenth time, before she returned her gaze to the quiet side street outside. They were parked more or less opposite the bar's entrance, on the other side of the road. Tseng and Rude had been in the bar for a good 45 minutes, with the two targets having arrived about half an hour ago and within roughly five minutes of one another. Thus far, everything seemed to be going to plan. Elena sighed and rested her head on her hand, willing her headache to go away. It didn't help that there was an unusually strong smell of air freshener in the car despite there being no evidence of one on display._

_She pressed the button to wind down the window. Nothing happened, of course, for the keys weren't in the ignition._

_"Would you mind opening the window?" she asked._

_"Hmm?" Reno turned his head to look at her, a questioning expression on his face. He had obviously been lost in thought._

_"The window," Elena repeated. When Reno looked mildly confused, Elena frowned at him. "Reno are you… did you have an accident with a bottle of air freshener in here, or something?"_

_"Air fresh—" Reno began, puzzled, when suddenly he laughed. "No, that would be my new aftershave. A freebie from the rebuilt Honeybee Inn."_

_"Lifetime member's perk?" Elena presumed sarcastically, rolling her eyes._

_"Something like that," Reno shrugged. "Thought I'd try it out on you – I was careful to be generous with it so as to give you the full benefit of the fragrance, especially as I knew we'd be spending the best part of our afternoon cooped up in here."_

_"Such a gentleman," Elena faked a smile at him. "Quality over quantity, Reno."_

_"There was me thinking it was the other way round," he sighed. "At least, that's what the manager at the Honeybee'd have you think."_

_"You'd be better off with insect repellent – at least that way you wouldn't_ completely _destroy your chances of finding a long term girlfriend."_

_Reno opened his mouth to let some smartass reply roll off his tongue when he caught sight of movement in the bar's doorway. Elena had also noticed, and had to refrain from sitting forward in her seat to get a better view; discretion was of particular importance until they had more intelligence on the two groups._

_"It's Target A," Reno muttered, facing forwards but swivelling his eyes to watch as one of their targets stepped out onto the street. The man they referred to as Target A seemed to be on the look out for anything suspicious, what with the way he paused and took in his surroundings with rather more diligence than the average, moderately lubricated bar patron. Elena felt her heart throbbing in her head as his gaze settled upon their car and she forced herself to look in the opposite direction. "Oh shit," Reno cursed, body tensing as he appeared to be weighing up what to do. "I think he's clocked us."_

_"You're sure?" Elena asked, not wanting to turn her head to see if Reno was right. Deep down she knew he was, and had done since the moment the target had looked at them._

_"Quite sure," Reno nodded. An uncomfortable pause and Elena finally allowed herself a glimpse in his direction. Target A was walking straight towards them, an uncertain expression on his face; as though he were trying to decide whether or not she and Reno were more than just two ordinary people sitting in a car. She was about to suggest Reno start the engine and drive when he was suddenly upon her, hands roaming as he planted his lips on hers._

_"Re—!" she began, making to push him away._

_"Just go with it!" Reno hissed, leaning over her so that his back was now to the target. Elena could feel the weight of him crushing her against the seat, one hand curling around her waist whilst the other roamed dangerously close to her chest._

_"I swear to god, Reno, I'm going to fucking kill you," she muttered as he broke the kiss and moved around to nuzzle her neck. Elena's right hand clasped the trim of the door, attempting to regain some control over the situation._

_"Has he gone?" Reno whispered, his breath warm against Elena's neck. Elena managed a brief glance over Reno's shoulder._

_"He's still there," she replied, finding she had little choice but to wrap her arms around him in return if Reno's plan was to work. "But he's stopped – he's not coming any closer." Somewhere behind him, Tseng and Rude were visible in the bar's entrance, and Elena felt herself blush, more out of embarrassment than anger this time._

_Reno's attention returned to her lips for a few moments, making sure that the whole act looked as real as possible and not like the phoney cover up it really was. Elena managed to steal another glance out of the driver's side window behind Reno to see Target A heading off down the road, apparently satisfied that they were just a couple in a car._

_"Enough," she panted, struggling to catch her breath, the palms of her hands pushing lightly against his chest. "He's gone." Reno drew back slowly, looking first to the street outside to see that Target A had gone._

_"Sorry," he said after a moment or two. "It… it just seemed the only thing to do."_

_"Right," Elena nodded, her face torn somewhere between shock, annoyance, embarrassment and relief. Her hair was ruffled, tie skewiff._

_"I didn't—"_

_"Just," Elena raised her hand, and for a moment Reno winced ever so slightly, as though he thought she would hit him. In all honesty, Elena wasn't quite sure what to do with herself. "Leave it," she finished, lowering her hand and reaching for the door handle. "I get it. It's fine."_

_Elena stood up entirely too fast, her head spinning as she slammed the car door and leaned back against it. As much as she was furious with Reno, she knew that there had been little choice on his part. Driving off would probably have looked suspicious in itself, and could have ended with both targets' groups going to ground and becoming even more difficult to trace than they already were. Try as she might to tell herself that it was just a part of the job, though, Elena couldn't help but feel worse for the fact that Tseng of all people had been witness to it._

_"Elena." Speak of the devil; Tseng's voice came from behind her, where he was standing on the other side of the car, looking at her across the roof. Elena turned to face him, her back stiffening. She opened her mouth to say something – she wasn't sure what – when he spoke before she had the chance. "Go back to Healin with Rude." It was an order, delivered like a swift punch to the stomach; blunt and to the point, and as far from cordial as he could manage without actually growling at her. Elena closed her mouth and nodded, finding herself automatically dropping her gaze. She had intended to ask how the mission went but decided that she would ask Rude instead. At least he wasn't looking at her as though she had just murdered his favourite pet._

_She nodded once and walked around the back of the car, whilst Tseng moved around the front and opened the door, sitting in the passenger seat without another word._

_"He's livid," Elena remarked dejectedly as she joined Rude and they headed towards the other car that was parked a short distance in front of Reno's._

_"Not with you," Rude replied, zapping the car and opening the driver's door. Elena raised a sceptical eyebrow and got in, fastening her seatbelt and directing her gaze out of the window. "Trust me," Rude went on, starting the engine, "if it was you he was annoyed with, you'd be going back to Healin with him, not with me."_

_"You think?" Elena didn't sound too convinced. Rude just gave a nod, his eyes switching to the rear view mirror as he put the car in gear. Rather than looking out for traffic before he pulled away from the curb, however, Rude's gaze found its way to the car behind them. Reno was sitting stiffly in the driver's seat, and his hands must have been in his lap because they weren't visible on the steering wheel. Tseng's lips were moving, and the expression on his face was not one of friendliness; he was vaguely reminiscent of the Midgar Zolom, about to consume the foolish traveller who had wandered into its territory._

_"You all right?" Rude asked, turning his face briefly towards her._

_"Fine," Elena nodded, a little too quickly. Her voice adopted that higher-than-normal, overly casual tone that often accompanied a lie._

_Elena ran a hand through her hair, smoothing down the strands that Reno had pushed out of place. She couldn't have cared less about what her hair looked like at that moment but it was something to do. Rude was good at reading people, and he was more often than not right about Tseng. That knowledge still did little to calm the after effects of the withering look Tseng had shot her; Elena felt as though she was positively disintegrating from the inside out._

_-x-_

Elena didn't recall falling asleep, or passing out – whichever it was – but she was aware that she was now somewhere different. The last thing she remembered was Reno's voice, and the vague discomfort of being carried. Elena could feel faint, regular vibrations along the length of her body and there was the distinctive, familiar sound of a helicopter engine. It was beginning to make sense; if Reno had come to get them, as Tseng had mentioned at some point in the lodge, then he would have come by helicopter and she assumed that they must have now been on their way back to Healin.

The first thing she saw was what looked like a bag of clear liquid hanging above her, slightly to the left. Beyond that was dinginess and a dim light that she recognised as being one of the interior lights of Shinra's helicopters. Her eyes returned to the bag, finding and following the thin plastic tube that was attached to the bottom of it. As she realised what it was, it occurred to her that the saline might have been the reason she felt a little more with it. Her body seemed worryingly heavy, her chest in particular. Maybe it was simply that she had no strength left; that would have been the logical explanation. It did little to quiet her uneasiness at the sensation, though.

Above the sound of unintelligible radio chatter, Elena heard a familiar voice. Tseng. She couldn't quite make out what he was saying but she just about caught Reno's reply.

"About ten minutes," was what it sounded like. "I radioed ahead – they know we're coming." A moment's pause, and more broken sounds from the radio. "How's she doing?"

Had Elena been sitting up, she would have seen Tseng turn to look at her from his position standing behind the pilot's seat, one hand holding onto the headrest of the empty co-pilot's chair. "Hard to say," he replied. "She's been unconscious since we left the safe house."

"She's strong, though, isn't she? She'll make it," said Reno. He sounded as though he were trying to convince himself. Tseng didn't answer him.

Elena knew what his silence meant. The possibility that she would die had planted itself in her mind right back at the Crater, the moment she realised that she wouldn't make it to the helicopter before the Remnants got to her; the moment she had decided to put the mission before all else. It had been a subconscious decision in many ways, and it was perhaps the first time she truly recognised that she was no longer the rookie who was incapable of making a decision without running it past her superiors.

The sound of hard-soled shoes on the metal floor alerted her to the fact that Tseng was approaching her at the rear of the aircraft. It was a military grade helicopter, and the large area behind the cockpit could be used either for cargo or passengers. In her mind's eye, Elena recalled that seats folded up against the walls on either side and wondered if that was where her boss was heading. That didn't really make sense to her, though, as he could just as easily have sat with Reno in the cockpit. Which meant that he must have been coming over to her.

The last thing the Turk Director had said to her back in the lodge drifted into her mind, so vividly that she could almost hear the words as if he were speaking them now: _'I never meant to hurt you. Not like this.'_ She remembered his cold hands on her skin, his fingers tightening around her forearm. What had he meant? Elena found herself making up her mind that he could have said it simply out of guilt, or pity. Perhaps he felt he _ought_ to have said something nice to her, given that she had just been through hell at the hands of the Remnants. _And just because you don't mean to hurt someone_ , she thought, _doesn't mean you have feelings for them_. _It doesn't mean he has feelings for you._ Elena wasn't quite sure why she felt the need to face facts just then, and was almost surprised that she was able to think with such clarity when she felt so drained; maybe it helped to distract her from the pain that had taken over most of her upper body. The same way stubbing a toe whilst having toothache would momentarily numb the latter. But then, ironically, Elena wondered which was worse; a bullet wound to the chest and a few other brutal courtesies from the Remnants, or Tseng being indifferent to her.

"Elena." It took her a moment to realise that Tseng was standing over her, quite literally. One hand was on the side of the bench nearest the wall, the other on the side nearest himself, and his face and chest were thus directly above her. He had seen that her eyes were open a fraction, even if her gaze was on the vacant side.

"Mmm?" she managed, having intended to say _'What?'_ except that her mouth seemed not to be quite up to such complicated phonetic manoeuvres at short notice.

"Ten minutes," he said, something imploring about his eyes. Elena wasn't sure if it was just the angle at which he was standing, the way the feeble lighting cast shadows on his face, or whether he had actually let his guard down thinking that she was too out of it to really register anything, but his expression was as unhappy as she had ever seen him look. "We should be at the hospital in Healin in ten minutes."

Elena felt a standard reply swell in her throat. Something like _'yes, sir'_ or _'right'_ as she might have replied were this a normal helicopter journey as part of a normal mission. But Tseng was still standing there, leaning over in a way he probably wouldn't have done were this any other time. And the only thing making it past her throat just then was the metallic, sickening taste of blood.

"I…" he began uncertainly, eyes travelling down her body and off to one side. "I wanted to thank you," he said, gaze snapping back to Elena's face. "For saving my life back in the Crater. If you hadn't have done what you did… in that split second…well," he broke off. "Don't you ever let me hear you doubting your competence as a Turk again." He was smiling but it wasn't a happy smile. "Unless you think that saving your boss' life isn't particularly commendable," he went on casually, straightening and sitting on the fold-down chair beside her. "In which case we need to have words."

Elena managed a smile, which was interrupted by a weak cough. Her mind returned to their conversation of what now must have been the day before yesterday, when they had talked about her sister. And of course, that thought led to thoughts about what had happened directly after that; thoughts that involved his body pushing hers up against the wall, his lips taking hers as if they had been planning it for some considerable time. At least, that was how it had felt. Which prompted her to think her next thought out loud.

"Did…" she began, hesitantly trying to clear her throat. The bullet wound throbbed as she did, making her wince and inhale sharply.

"Don't," Tseng shook his head, sitting forwards and towards her. Elena blinked slowly and swallowed as she got it together.

"Did you mean it?" she rasped. "What you said… yesterday?" She was looking up at the ceiling, trying to find the nerve to look him straight in the eye.

Tseng's expression intensified.

"About not being… interested," she clarified, nervousness hitting her as she did. She had been aware for a while that her heart was beating faster than normal, and knew that it was as a result of the blood loss. Now, however, she could feel it pulsing in her ears, in her throat, and had no doubt in her mind as to what – or _who_ – was causing it. Elena looked over at Tseng to find that he was still leaning towards her, head bowed as he pinched the bridge of his nose and frowned, clearly trying to bring his inner turmoil under control. It was unusual for him to be so transparent. And it was unusual for her to be so direct with him. But what did she have to lose when she might not have been around to face the consequences?

Tseng bit down on his lip to stop himself from blurting out the truth. It wasn't often that someone managed to startle an honest answer out of him.

"Couple minutes to landing," Reno announced from the cockpit. Tseng found himself looking briefly at Reno, and then out of the windscreen at the front. Darkness was about all there was to see.

 _'Don't forget what it is to let yourself be guided by your feelings from time to time, Tseng.'_ Vincent was right. Why, then, did it have to be so difficult?

"No," Tseng answered eventually. "I didn't mean it."

When Elena made no response, Tseng wondered if she had heard him. He rose to his feet, ignoring the stomach-churning flare of nausea that gripped him as he did, and reached out to place a palm against the interior wall to steady himself. "Elena?"

Something was wrong; he could see it in her vacant stare just before her eyes rolled closed. He bent over her, suppressing panic as he noticed that fresh blood had leaked from the far corner of her mouth. Touching her neck, he was relieved to feel the reassuring throbbing of a pulse against his fingertips. For how long it would stay that way, however, was becoming increasingly uncertain.

_-x-_

The sight of medical staff fast approaching the helicopter across the flat roof of the hospital clinic was deeply reassuring after the two and a half hour flight. The sky was gradually lightening with the arrival of dawn; according to Tseng's watch, it was just past 4am.

Tseng had managed to scoop Elena's limp form into his arms and make it off the helicopter rather more smoothly than he would have trusted himself to be capable of in his current state. Reno had been instructing him to wait from his position in the cockpit, clearly also of the opinion that Tseng was more likely to collapse himself before he succeeded in taking Elena anywhere. But urgency and impatience had overtaken any scruples the Turk Director might normally have experienced in a more rational frame of mind. His current mission had only one objective, and that involved delivering the junior Turk into the care of a doctor.

He had, during their descent in the lift from the rooftop where Reno had landed the helicopter, responded to Dr Stein's questions about Elena's injuries and how they had been sustained, surprised at the professionally detached façade he managed to maintain when the images filtering through his mind as he outlined what had happened had been nothing short of gut-wrenching. The dark expression on Reno's face in response to his brief account of his and Elena's brush with the Remnants had not escaped his notice. But now Tseng was just an onlooker, helpless to do anything other than watch and push his exhausted body to keep up as they rushed down the corridor.

The lighting inside the clinic was almost blinding, and that together with the ringing in his ears gave Tseng the sensation of how he imagined it might have felt to be in a cocoon; sealed off from the world whilst still being able to sense that it was there. He was just about keeping pace with the three medics moving hurriedly down the corridor, two of them wheeling the stretcher on which Elena was lying.

"Sir, if you'd just wait out here," a politely spoken voice addressed Tseng, only just audible above Dr Stein's tirade of commands to her colleagues, who had increased in number as they reached the emergency room. Tseng found himself nodding, his gaze wandering in the direction of Lara's voice. Her eyes met his for a moment. She looked the same as she always did; black hair pulled back into an informal bun at the back of her head, those small diamond studs glistening in her earlobes that somehow drew out her icy grey eyes from porcelain skin. Tseng had caught Rufus staring at her when he thought no one was looking, and it made him smile to notice that her fingers lingered over the President's bandages for just a millisecond longer than strictly necessary. It made Tseng feel something of a gooseberry but Rufus had always insisted on an escort, and Tseng knew Lara was too much of a professional to get involved with a patient. Especially Rufus Shinra.

"Make sure someone sees to him," she said, nodding to Tseng. Lara was looking at him with some concern, clearly weighing up in her mind just how much of the copious amount of blood on his clothes belonged to him, and how much to Elena.

"Leave it to me," replied the man who had spoken to Tseng before. Apparently satisfied, Lara disappeared into the emergency room. "Sir, if you come with me I'll send a doctor along to see you," he turned to Tseng. The Turk Director nodded, instantly regretting it as his head and neck jarred uncomfortably.

He followed the male nurse to a curtained off cubicle, Reno close behind him.

"Sit yourself down – someone will be with you in a few minutes," the nurse said, gesturing to the bed before turning abruptly and walking off down the corridor. Tseng moved towards the bed but stopped before he got there.

"You okay?" Reno cocked his head, coming up behind his boss. "Maybe you should take his advice."

"Don't get too used to giving out orders, Reno," Tseng muttered dryly. He was unused to speaking without thinking and hoped that his tone wasn't too biting, which was perhaps evidence enough that rest was precisely what he needed.

"It was more of a suggestion," Reno replied, evidently trying to not sound affronted. Tseng dipped his head and sighed, his back still towards Reno. It was as much of an apology as the younger Turk was going to get for the time being. "Look," Reno breathed, rubbing his forehead and suppressing a yawn, "you need to take it easy. And I mean that as a friend."

Tseng turned his head to one side so that he could see Reno on the edge of his field of vision. "I know you do." In some respects Tseng considered it strange to think of Reno as a friend, when he was practically the polar opposite of himself. But a friend was precisely what Reno was; someone who could, most of the time, be relied upon. Someone he respected and trusted. Tseng had often thought that the inner workings of their minds were not as different as their outward appearances. When Reno had first joined the Turks, Tseng had been a mentor figure to him and in many ways still was, even if Reno's capabilities had now caught up somewhat with the size of his ego.

Tseng inadvertently caught his own reflection in the mirror that was fixed above the sink in the corner of the cubicle. Blood had begun to soak through the white dressings Vincent had covered his head wounds with, but oddly enough he found himself to be more unsettled by the sight of the blood that was all over the front of his shirt; Elena's blood. Dry, blotchy stains made the skin on his hands appear a watery shade of red in places, and he suddenly realised that the irony, nauseating smell that he had been aware of since entering the clinic was not from some exotic cleaning chemical, but it was the smell of blood. He was unsure as to why he hadn't really noticed it before, when it was a smell that he wasn't completely unfamiliar with. Whatever the reason, it was having an undesirable effect on him and served as a reminder that the events of the last 24 hours were very, very real. The Crater, Elena taking a bullet for him, the observation base, the Remnants; it was all real. And, for a moment, it was more than he could handle.

His stomach clenched suddenly, and Tseng pondered the proximity of the nearest toilets. Aside from a need to be alone to straighten out his thoughts – or more precisely, his _emotions_ –, the need to vomit was decidedly more pressing. Realising he wouldn't make it to the bathroom in time, Tseng lurched towards the sink and was just grateful that it was a decent size as he heaved.

"Tseng?" Reno sounded worried. "I'm gonna call someone."

"No," Tseng shook his head, blinking hard as his eyes began to water. He inhaled shakily, one hand placed against the wall. "I'm fine. Someone will be here in a minute."

"You're not fine," Reno folded his arms, watching as Tseng ran the tap and splashed his mouth with water. "And on that subject," he went on, almost tentatively. "This probably isn't the time to ask but…"

Tseng turned to him properly, the beginnings of a questioning frown on his face. He sensed that Reno was working up to asking something that he must have thought was not going to go down very well. "Is…" the redhead started, avoiding his boss' gaze.

"Spit it out," Tseng sighed, although he was beginning to wonder if he really wanted to hear what the Turk had to say.

"You… you seem to have some kind of," Reno began once more, but his awkward expression suggested he was unsatisfied with the way he had phrased his sentence. "Is everything okay with you?" he said finally. "Before the Crater, you just seemed… not quite yourself."

"Why wouldn't things be okay?" Tseng asked coolly, managing to remain more or less indifferent.

"I'm not saying they're not," Reno replied. "I just got the impression that maybe you were annoyed, or that something else is bothering you, I don't know," he shrugged. The only time Tseng knew Reno to be lost for words, or he struggled to find the right ones, was when he wanted to be diplomatic about a subject that might have earned him an adverse response.

"I've had a lot on my mind," Tseng said quietly. It was true, even if it wasn't very explicit. "But you can rest assured that there's nothing to worry about."

"Right," Reno nodded. "I just… wanted to ask, you know? For a while I thought… well, we all thought that we might not see you again after the mission went wrong. And when Kadaj came waving yours and Elena's ID cards… I suppose it makes you realise a few things. That there are such things as friends, and not just people you work with, or people who you use and who use you in return."

Tseng smiled faintly. Reno could be very serious and human when the mood took him.

Another wave of nausea washed over him and a small voice somewhere in his mind suggested he turn back to the sink. One moment he was looking at Reno, and the next he was aware that his legs had buckled and he was falling. He was unconscious before he even hit the floor.

_-x-_


	9. Chapter 9

_-x-_

_It would have been shortly before the time Tseng had gone with Elena to the Temple of the Ancients during Shinra's search for the Black Materia that the Turk Director had developed something of a soft spot for the rookie. He couldn't put his finger on exactly when it was that this soft spot had made its presence felt; it had been a gradual process that crept up on him almost politely. One thing he could put his finger on, however, was the exact moment it dawned on him that the warmth he felt towards Elena was more than just a soft spot._

_Tseng moved unhurriedly up the stairs that led to the street level, Rude not far behind him. The forty-five or so minutes the two of them had spent in the bar, eavesdropping on a meeting between an arms dealer and an anti-Shinra terrorist had been time well spent; they were leaving with more intelligence than they had arrived with. He glanced at his watch, making a mental note that they would be back in Healin before 5pm and in good time to report to Rufus before his appointment at the clinic. Rufus liked to be prompt for his Geostigma treatments._

_As they exited onto the street, Tseng caught sight of one of their targets – Target A – approaching the car across the street, where Reno and Elena had been waiting as backup. Tseng froze, his mind rapidly turning over ways of distracting the man before he realised who Reno and Elena were. His attention switched to the car, hoping that one of them had noticed. For a split second, he innocently wondered why Reno's back was to the driver's side window, his body leaning over towards the passenger seat. But then he caught sight of Reno's arms snaking around Elena, one hand caressing the back of her head whilst the other glided leisurely down her body and out of view. Elena flung one hand out to grasp the window ledge, where it remained for a moment or two before finding its way to Reno's back. The target paused, still apparently scrutinising the car from his position halfway across the side street. And then, almost reluctantly, he turned, shoulders relaxing as he seemed to buy into Reno's expertly executed performance. By the time Target A began walking away down the street, Reno was virtually in Elena's lap, his lips locked with hers as his hands roamed freely, clearly not familiar with the term 'restraint'._

_Tseng bit his teeth together hard, feeling the anger swell from the pit of his stomach and into his chest. He was quick to guide his thoughts down the avenue of professionalism; it was wrong of Reno to abuse a colleague in that way; a simple, unobtrusive kiss would have sufficed to deflect the target's suspicions; there was certainly no need for Reno to have put on a show to quite that extent. In his defence, there was the fact that driving off would have looked suspicious and, realistically, that had left Reno with little choice. And that was when a small, irritatingly know-it-all voice piped up in Tseng's mind:_ You're jealous _._

_There was no escaping the reality of it; the sight of Reno – of another man – all over Elena filled him with a cocktail of feelings so intense that it was a wonder he had never realised it before._

_"Um," Rude began cautiously. He cleared his throat and rocked onto the balls of his feet for a tense moment._

_"Yes," Tseng replied bluntly, his face a picture of displeasure. "Um."_

_As he crossed the street, Rude only slightly behind him, Elena got out of the car rather abruptly and stood facing the other way. Tseng wondered if she was all right._

_"Elena," he said plainly, not yet sparing a glance down at Reno, who was probably less than a foot away from him, sitting on the other side of the window in the driver's seat. She turned to face him, her lips parted slightly as though she were about to say something. "Go back to Healin with Rude." Elena's gaze dropped and she looked uncomfortable in her own skin. It was easier for Tseng to remain on the mildly dissatisfied side of poker-faced. Once emotions came into play, it was a downward spiral to a complete lack of self-control. And a lack of self-control had never suited the Turk Director._

_He moved around the front of the car and opened the passenger door without another word. Once seated beside Reno, Tseng watched as Elena joined Rude and got into the car in front._

_"Tseng – sir – I can explain," Reno began, his voice surprisingly level compared with his tense posture. Reno only called him 'sir' when he thought he was in line for a stern telling off. Rather than interrupt him, Tseng merely raised an eyebrow that seemed to say 'Please do so', in such a way that invited Reno to dig an even deeper hole for himself just so Tseng could take pleasure in burying him in it. Reno sighed, only too familiar with the expression on his boss' face. "The target was approaching and he looked like he thought we might have been people to worry about…" he turned his palms upwards and shrugged. "So I thought that if we gave the impression of being a couple, he wouldn't twig who we were. I mean, if we were that into each other, how could we possibly care who he was or what he was up to? As far as he's concerned, we're just two ordinary people."_

_Again, Tseng said nothing, which made the atmosphere in the car about ten times worse as Reno waited anxiously for a response. His knee joggled up and down a few times, and then stopped abruptly. The last thing he wanted was to aggravate Tseng any further._

_"I mean, driving off would have looked odd – like we had something to hide. At least the target's none the wiser now," Reno went on, shrugging again._

_"But is he?" Tseng replied icily. "You don't know what conclusions he might have drawn. Just because he walked away doesn't mean he took you for the smitten boyfriend."_

_"Well, there're no guarantees but I think we did okay." Reno shifted in his seat. "What else could I have done? It might have been a bit… full on, but I had to make it look convincing."_

_"There's convincing," Tseng nodded, mood lightening for a brief moment. "And then there's taking advantage." He turned his head to look at Reno, an expression on his face that was nothing short of predatory. "You're not in the Honeybee now, Reno. Elena is your colleague."_

_"Aw come on," Reno tried to make light of it. "Elena's one of us – one of the guys. She knows this job as well as any of us."_

_"So I'd catch you treating Rude in the same way on a mission, then?" Tseng questioned, eyebrow raising when Reno was visibly at a loss for words. "No, I didn't think so."_

_"Like I said," Reno managed awkwardly. "I was a bit full on with her but… it was a split second decision. I didn't do anything_ really _inappropriate…" he trailed off, something in his face suggesting that he was inwardly asking himself if he actually might have done. "You know I respect Elena – think of her as a kind of little sister, even."_

_"And that's all it is?" Tseng wasn't sure what possessed him to probe into the possibility that Reno had taken advantage of the situation to the point that he had because the redhead had a thing for the female Turk. Jealousy, perhaps? "I'm sure I don't need to remind you of company policy on inter-staff relationships in a department such as ours."_

_"Whoa, Tseng," Reno was shaking his head. "No. Absolutely not. I like Elena, sure, and yeah, she's… you know, attractive — but I don't see her… like_ that _." Reno stopped, twisting in his seat to look at his boss properly. "You know I don't," he said honestly. "Okay, I made a bad call and got a bit carried away. But you know I wouldn't take advantage of her like that – not really."_

_Tseng sighed, knowing that Reno was telling the truth. He might have been a womanizer but he wasn't a letch. And despite flirtatious banter with Elena from time to time, Reno had always been subtly protective of the female Turk ever since she had joined them, despite all his whining about being lumbered with a rookie. Tseng had, despite his best efforts, allowed his feelings to get the better of him, and he could only hope that it didn't show. But Reno had overstepped the mark and duly deserved a dressing down for it._

_"I know," Tseng replied eventually. "And it wasn't a bad call. Just, next time, don't try so hard to be 'convincing'."_

_Reno laughed and held up his hands. "Fair enough." He fastened his seatbelt and started the engine. Before putting the car in gear, however, he hesitated._

_"Besides, didn't that particular company policy get flushed down the toilet?"_

_Tseng frowned, puzzled._

_"You know, about inter-staff relationships? Didn't Rufus decide that it was better that we all 'bonded' naturally, without hang ups about being accused of jumping into personal relationships, or some modern HR jargon like that?"_

_Tseng chuckled. "Probably."_

_-x-_

It was like waking slowly from a dream; that blissful point between being asleep and being awake, where reality was yet to kick in. Tseng had no real desire to open his eyes, and even less of a desire to move. He was lying on something pleasantly soft, and he was comfortably warm, but his body was aching too much for him to really appreciate it. There was a tightness around his head, accompanied by the presence of something that was blowing air up his nose. After a while, the penny dropped that it must have been oxygen, which reminded him where he was. And, suddenly, why he was there.

"Dr Stein," came a male voice. "I'll be clocking off now."

"Sure," Lara replied, from somewhere close by. "See you tomorrow."

There was the sound of rubber-soled shoes on vinyl flooring, moving away.

"Oh, before you go – did you have any luck getting in touch with a next of kin?"

"For the other Turk?" the male voice questioned.

"Mmm," Lara confirmed.

"The um, the Turk with the red hair gave me a phone number but the guy who answered said he didn't know her."

"Right," Lara sighed. The door fell closed.

"Thought he'd never leave."

Tseng felt the tiny hairs on the back of his neck prick. The voice was unmistakably familiar; a depth that could seem sincere to potential investors, authoritative to subordinates, and seductive to women. Its owner was clearly used to being obeyed by all three (or simply getting his way with the latter category), even if there was a playful edge to his tone.

"Rufus," Lara muttered disdainfully. Tseng could hear her smiling.

"What?" came the reply. He was good at feigning innocence, too. Tseng could picture Rufus pulling that charming, butter-wouldn't-melt smile, his good eye gleaming with boyish allure. "You know me – I'm not one for sharing."

Someone moved, probably Rufus, for the clack of the crutch he used when not in his wheelchair was audible between carefully measured footsteps. There was the soft rustle of expensive fabric, like someone was reaching out.

"I thought we said we were going to keep this between us?" Lara whispered fractiously. "And strictly _out_ of the workplace?"

"Mmm."

"Then, aren't you forgetting someone? He could come round at any time."

"Tseng? There's no keeping secrets from him," Rufus chuckled. "Don't be surprised if he's already worked it out. It's kind of annoying, really, the way he just _knows_ everything, but then that's why he's so good at what he does." There was a pause. "Don't worry, he's not the sort to start spreading gossip," Rufus reassured her. "Your colleagues – and most of mine – will be none the wiser, as we agreed."

Lara laughed lightly, her mind apparently put at rest. "Let me get you a chair," she said, the warmth of a smile still audible in her voice. Tseng was aware of movement; a brief whiff of perfume and high heels on vinyl flooring.

"Don't," Rufus said softly, as though he didn't expect her to pay any attention to the protest. And clearly she didn't, for the sound of a plastic chair being placed somewhere near the bed reached Tseng's ears. "My legs might not be as obliging as they used to be but I don't want you running round me," he went on, his tone growing in insistence. "This," – something metal clattered to the floor; his crutch – "isn't me." There was a tense pause, no longer than a heartbeat.

"Sorry," Rufus followed up with a sigh. "Things are a bit… difficult at the moment."

"Understandably."

"I've known Tseng a long time, you know – twelve or so years. I remember the day he was assigned to my personal protection when I was about thirteen – he was probably the first person who ever intimidated me." Rufus laughed thinly. "And one of the first people I really respected, aside from my mother. That was a new experience for me; most of the other Turks used to be on eggshells around me even as a child, and my father… well, Tseng knew more about me than my father did, even if it was his job to do so," Rufus explained slowly. Another silence.

"Anyway," Rufus cleared his throat, his tone adopting a purposefulness that closed the subject of his childhood. "I'll see what I can do about finding a contact number for her family," he said. "There'll probably be something on file. Reno's not acquainted with the filing cabinet so it wouldn't surprise me if he didn't have the right phone number. How's she doing, anyway? I went to see her after dropping in on Tseng this morning but was told she wasn't ready for visitors yet – I was ushered away before I even got there. I was hoping one of them might have come to but…"

Lara sighed, as though she were having to broach a difficult subject. "It doesn't look so good," she said eventually. "Surgery went well but with those injuries… it was touch and go for a while. She hasn't come off lightly, that much is certain."

"Kadaj," Rufus muttered under his breath. His voice was stone cold with resentment. "He'd go to any lengths to make sure the reunion goes ahead."

 _Elena_. They were talking about Elena. Memories, all of them recent and none of them pleasant, flooded back to Tseng. The sense of calm with which he had awoken dissipated like ash in a breeze, leaving him cold and anxious. Numerous questions began to emerge: Was she going to make it? Why were her family unreachable? How long had he been unconscious?

"Ah, you're awake," Lara remarked. "Quite the beauty sleep you've had."

Tseng hadn't realised that he had successfully opened his eyes, for the image they presented him with was completely unintelligible.

"How long?" he asked, his voice almost unrecognisable as his own.

"It's nearly 7pm now, so about thirteen hours," came the reply. "But it's no surprise; you're suffering from exhaustion, not to mention dehydration and a concussion."

Tseng blinked slowly a few times, and his vision sharpened enough to see Lara standing beside his bed, looking down at him. Rufus was sitting on a chair positioned next to her.

"Elena?"

He might have overheard bits and pieces but he wanted the full story. A debriefing, if one could call it that, with no details omitted. Tseng saw her smile lose its warmth as her face fell. Her hands appeared on the plastic bed guard, her index finger rubbing small circles over the button used to elevate and lower the head-end of the mattress.

"I went off shift late this morning, after we had her condition more or less stabilised," Lara said eventually, maybe even reluctantly. "I'm about to go and see her, so I'll know more then."

"Lara," Tseng persisted, his voice telling her that he wanted her to be honest with him. He didn't usually address her by her first name and he was subconsciously hoping to, temporarily, break the sense of formality that normally underpinned their relationship. She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Then, slowly, she lowered the bed guard and sat carefully on the edge of the mattress. Rufus, he noticed, was looking away into the corner beyond the bed.

"Even now there's no getting past you, is there?" she smiled glumly. Her gaze became fixed on some distant point. "As you know, she lost a lot of blood. The bullet penetrated the upper right lung, and to add insult to injury she's developed pneumonia. That's a lot for the body to cope with all at once when you take into account that, like you, she's physically exhausted and has a host of more minor injuries. We're doing the best we can but it really is a question of wait and see." Lara looked at him once more. "I'm sorry I can't be more positive, Tseng."

Tseng nodded vaguely in acknowledgement. His skin felt like it was crawling, and he realised he was breaking into a cold sweat.

"I'll leave you to talk," Lara said, rising from the bed and putting the guard back up. "But not too long, mind – you need to rest." Tseng felt like a child; powerless and with a diminished sense of real understanding, with decisions being made around him, for him, and above him. But perhaps that was best for the time being, until he felt less ridiculously feeble. "Is there anyone you'd like me to call?" Lara asked suddenly. Tseng, taken by surprise, considered the question.

 _Elena_. Hers was the face he wanted to see. He was tempted to ask if he could get up to see her but there was no way that such a question would come across as mere professional concern. Not in a million years.

"No," he replied, dismissing the thought. It had pushed to the front of his mind like an over-enthusiastic school child. Then there was his family, who were miles away, and most of them weren't speaking to him anyway. "There's no one."

"Well, let me know if you change your mind."

Lara had reached the door when Rufus spoke up. "Thank you, Dr Stein."

She turned to face him, dipped her head in modest acknowledgement, and was gone.

 _'Dr. Stein'_ , Tseng inwardly scoffed, eyeing Rufus. It wasn't really a surprise to learn that the chemistry between the President and the doctor had moved up a level. Tseng was, in fact, only slightly irritated with himself that he hadn't spotted it sooner; he had dismissed his initial suspicions that they were seeing each other because he simply thought it unlikely that Lara would allow herself to cross the line, given the professional nature of most doctor-patient relationships. For a good while, Tseng had been of the opinion that they were almost overly professional around each other, as if they were trying to cover up the fact that there was more to their relationship than met the eye. But, with time, Tseng had found himself to be unconvinced that anything was going on; nothing of a personal nature passed between them on Tseng's watch, and they never seemed to spend any significant time alone. That, however, did not mean they weren't fraternising on someone else's watch – probably Reno's. _But_ , Tseng thought, _if Reno knew, so would everybody else by now._ With Reno, company secrets were one thing but relationship gossip was fair game to him. It was his unofficial speciality, in fact.

Of course, there was the fact that Rufus was not permanently under close protection; even if there was usually a Turk or security guard on duty in the same building as the President, he often spent time alone in his quarters or in his office. Tseng had simply assumed that _someone_ would have noticed Lara coming and going, but then she was his doctor and her presence in the Lodge was never questioned; Rufus could feel unwell or be struck by a spasm at any time and he often required pain relief at the very least, if not sedation. And then there was the possibility that Rufus and Lara had only begun seeing each other in a non-professional capacity recently.

Veld had always stressed the importance of looking beyond one's expectations, and Tseng could have kicked himself for doing just the opposite; he had simply assumed his initial suspicions to be mistaken because of what he had _expected_ to be the case: namely that Lara would not get involved with a patient. And it wasn't that he thought any less of her because of it, more that it was a matter of security that he should have picked up on sooner. This time there was, fortunately, no harm done; Lara had been thoroughly vetted by the Turks prior to Rufus beginning his treatment for Geostigma, and they had known her long enough to know that she posed no direct risk to the President's safety. Other than that Tseng was almost pleased for Rufus, for the young President had, to his mind, lived a life of isolation behind all the superficial charm of power and luxury.

"So how are you feeling?" Rufus inquired, leaning forwards in the chair. "If circumstances were different, I'd almost say it's nice to be the one asking that question for a change."

"All right," Tseng lied. Aside from the pounding headache, muscle aches, nausea and tenderness in places he didn't recall sustaining any blows, a suffocating fist of anxiety was crushing his chest in its grasp.

"Well, you don't exactly look all right, but I'll take your word for it," Rufus replied, his good eye locking with Tseng's as if to say _liar_.

Tseng ran his fingers cautiously over the bandages around his head, pausing a moment as he felt a slight tugging sensation in the back of his hand; an IV. "Reno said that everything was okay here," Tseng began, eyebrows raised in want of confirmation.

Rufus gave a nod. "We still have Jenova – or rather, I have it. When Kadaj came I told him that it fell from the helicopter on the way back from the Crater. Whether he believes that…" Rufus shrugged. "Probably not."

"And Cloud?"

"No luck," Rufus shook his head. "But then I didn't tell him the full story. I suppose I didn't want to put him off, what with how… fragile his mind is. The man's practically a Remnant himself."

"He'll probably find out anyway," Tseng mused. "The brothers aren't going to be subtle about getting what they want."

"As I can see," Rufus nodded to Tseng, his face becoming deeply serious. "Reno filled me in on most of what happened – that you were attacked by Kadaj and his brothers as you retrieved Jenova. And that Vincent Valentine helped you out."

Tseng nodded. He was, however, unwilling to relive the events of the past day. It was proving a challenge to fend off flashbacks as it was. "The brothers appeared as we were about to leave the Crater," Tseng began. "And it seems they knew what we were up to judging by their approach; Elena spotted them first and… pushed me out of the way of an oncoming bullet." He blinked a few times, unable to stop himself from seeing Elena leaping at him, arms outstretched; the slick feeling of her blood on his fingertips as he wiped his cheek, the weight of her on top of him. "She was hit but she covered me so that I could get the container back to the helicopter. But they were too fast," Tseng shook his head. "Reno was forced to go without us."

Tseng sighed, shifting under the sheets. He was usually so clinical when it came to debriefs; emotion was unnecessary foliage that blurred the facts. "But then you already knew about that part," Tseng muttered, as if to reprimand himself. "They took us back to a disused observation base of ours, where they tried to… get answers out of us with regard to Jenova's whereabouts. We said nothing."

"Tseng," Rufus began, something in his face telling the Turk Director that he hadn't been expecting a full account just yet. Rufus wasn't widely known for being compassionate – quite the opposite, in fact. But Tseng had sensed a change in him sine the fall of Meteor, even if only slight. Before, Tseng had, at times, had cause to wonder whether Rufus simply knew when sensitivity was the appropriate approach to a situation, rather than it being a natural, feeling reaction. But having known Rufus as a child meant that Tseng had certain insights into Rufus' character, and one thing that he had never doubted was that the young President was not as cynical and heartless as he could so often appear. It was a façade that he had practised so hard for his father's benefit that it had almost become second nature to him.

"As you can gather – we escaped and, as luck would have it, Vincent was in the area, apparently trying to track the Remnants," Tseng continued.

Rufus' interest seemed to prick at this.

"I don't think it's anything to be concerned about," Tseng went on in response to Rufus' curious expression. "If anything, Vincent might stand a better chance of enlisting Cloud's help."

"True," Rufus nodded. He cleared his throat, an indication that there was something else he wanted to say. "You've done well – both of you. Your loyalty is appreciated. Very much so."

"Thank you, sir," Tseng replied. It had been a while since Rufus had voiced his thoughts on the Turks' performance, but Tseng could still recall the usual, expected response. Veld had ingrained it into him as a trainee. "I'm a Turk. Elena, too."

"Yes," Rufus nodded slowly. "But you know… you're people, too. We all are. I've learnt that it's important to remember that now and again."

Tseng met Rufus' gaze. It was becoming of him to be a little more open, Tseng thought. When he had first become President a little over two years ago, Rufus had been convinced that instilling fear into his subordinates was the only effective way to operate. To see that he was revising that strategy to the point that a display of gratitude was allowed, was heartening. There was hope for him, and the new Shinra Inc, yet. And Tseng was pleased, for he had always considered Rufus to be capable of greater things than his father, and of achieving them in a way that didn't involve getting quite as many bloodstains on his crisp white suit. The Turks had often joked back in the old days that Jack Shinra only wore a red suit to cover up all the bloodshed he created.

"What are we going to do now?" Tseng queried.

"Things are in hand," Rufus replied, leaning back and resting his elbow on the narrow arm of the chair, placing his thumb under his jaw and smoothing his index finger up to his eyebrow. "All that you're doing for the moment is resting. Reno and Rude can cope for now."

"For now," Tseng agreed. "But what if Kadaj returns? He's as brutal as he is capable, his brothers more so."

"I have something in mind, and you'll find out soon enough. If I tell you now you'll try to talk me out of it."

Tseng opened his mouth as if to say something, when Rufus' PHS began to ring. Rufus dipped a bandaged hand into his inside breast pocket, withdrawing a slick black phone.

"Reno," Rufus answered. "Have you located them?"

Reno's voice was vaguely audible to Tseng.

"Right. Well, keep me informed."

He snapped the phone shut and slid it back into his pocket.

"A few hours ago, Reno and Rude came across Cloud and that um… Tifa Lockhart in the church in Midgar. It seems one of the Remnants had been there. It transpires that they've made off with a large group of children and are heading towards the Forgotten City," Rufus reported thoughtfully. "Among them are the two children that live with Cloud and Tifa. So it appears things might go our way after all, as far as getting Cloud involved goes."

"He's going after the children?" Tseng assumed.

"It looks that way," Rufus nodded. "So the brothers should be occupied for the time being." Rufus reached for his crutch and, carefully, rose to his feet. Tseng could see his knuckles were white where he was gripping the walking aid, whilst his face remained more or less neutral. "Your orders are to stay here until Dr Stein decides otherwise," Rufus added, glancing at Tseng, who knew his place better than to argue.

"I trust you have an escort, sir?"

"As it happens, I do," Rufus replied, making his way to the door. "But you're off the clock, Tseng, so enjoy it."

_-x-_

Tseng was strangely relieved when Rude knocked and entered his hospital room carrying a sports bag in one hand. Perhaps it was because it would put an end to the disconcerting sense of powerlessness that was bearing down on him; Tseng had called Rude a couple of hours ago and asked the Turk to bring him some clothes. Reno was apparently still keeping tabs on the Remnants.

"Sir, are you sure this is a good idea?" Rude asked for the second time that afternoon. The first time had been over the phone a couple of hours earlier. "It's only been about thirty-six hours since you were brought in – if that," he reasoned, checking his watch to make sure he had assumed correctly.

Tseng nodded only slightly as he zipped up the sports bag that he had placed on the bed. Rude was standing by the door, hands clasped loosely together. Like Reno, the bald Turk appeared a little worse for wear after Kadaj's visit a few days previously to Healin. His sunglasses were even more pristine than usual, leading Tseng to think they were fresh from Rude's never-ending spare set. It seemed the Remnants were determined not to allow any of them to emerge unscathed until they got what they wanted.

"It might not be a good idea," Tseng sighed, fastening the cuff of the midnight-blue dress shirt Rude had packed him. It was the only spare he'd had in his locker back at the Lodge. "But it's a necessary one. You and Reno have your hands full with Kadaj and co, and with two Turks down Rufus is open and vulnerable at a time he can't afford to be." Had Rude been prone to insubordinate, smart-aleck rejoinders, much like Reno, then he could have argued that the Remnants had overpowered Tseng, as well as the other Turks, once already, and they could do so again. And knowing Rude, the thought probably crossed his mind. He was just too polite to say it. "I know we're not an equal match for them," Tseng continued, tucking his shirt into his pressed black trousers. "But I'm not sure that even really comes into the picture."

Rude nodded grimly. A Turk's priority was the protection of the President, no matter who the opponent, or what the situation.

"Have you told the doctor?" Rude asked.

"Yes," Tseng replied. "And signed the discharge papers. I'm good to go."

Tseng did feel considerably better than when he had first woken up the previous evening, even if he was still fatigued and his headache was lingering insistently. He was still sore in places where the brothers had manhandled him and he was generally on the stiff side, but it was nothing that wouldn't resolve itself before too long. Emotionally, he was in dire need of something to focus on. Something that would divert his mind from the constant, harrowing flashbacks. Noise that would stop him from hearing Yazoo's self-satisfied, horrendously dulcet tones. The Turk leader had to admit that there was something about his brushes with Sephiroth and the Remnants that was infinitely worse than any other skirmishes of his career. Was it their literal lack of humanity that did it? The psychotic edge to their behaviour? Or perhaps their superhuman strength? The knowledge that they really would stop at nothing to get what they wanted? Tseng was unsure.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes," Tseng nodded. "But there's one thing I need to do first."

_-x-_

The intensive care unit was only down the corridor from Tseng's room. Given that the clinic was relatively small, it was not really surprising. Still, Tseng had had no idea that Elena was just down the hall from him. One thing that had been unbearable was not knowing how she was, and if she was even still alive. More than once he had woken from a fitful sleep, his mind tormented by vivid recollections of the observation base, body drenched with sweat. A nurse had almost always been there when he awoke, alerted by the rapid changes in his pulse. When he had asked after Elena, they would simply smile sympathetically and say something vague without actually _telling_ him anything. All that he had heard from Lara was that Elena was stable. Alive. Her face had added, involuntarily, _'Hanging by a thread.'_

No doubt they thought he was traumatised, too much so to take any bad news regarding his colleague. Tseng imagined some psychobabble about not tipping him over the edge. He damn well _lived_ his life on the edge, Tseng thought sourly. _And if you fall off, you climb back up again before the start of the next shift. That's how it is._ Perhaps they thought he would blame himself for what had happened to Elena and self-destruct. The former might have been true – he regretted that he hadn't been able to better protect her, both as a Turk and as someone he deeply cared about – but self-destructing wasn't his style. Tseng did not do traumatised in the usual sense of the word.

"Thirty-six hours you say, Rude?" Tseng muttered as they passed through the doors to the intensive care unit.

"Thirty-seven, to be precise," Rude nodded, holding back a little to allow Tseng to precede him. Beyond the double doors was another corridor that bent round to the left. On one side was a row of four chairs that formed a bench against the wall. On the other was another door, with long windows either side. Tseng approached the window, tilting his head forward slightly so that he could see through the white slatted blinds on the other side of the glass.

Elena was recognisable lying in one of two beds that made up that section of the unit. The other bed, positioned at the opposite end of the room, was empty.

"Dr Stein said they were keeping her sedated until she improves enough to breathe on her own," Rude explained, standing beside his boss. "Apparently the damage to her lungs was quite serious."

Tseng nodded vaguely.

"And there's been nothing from her family," Rude added. "Even Rufus tried but… nothing."

"We must have a contact number for Dionne somewhere," Tseng frowned. Of course, there was a strong chance that it was out of date. It had been a long time since Dionne had left the company. The days when Shinra had had the resources to keep tabs on former Turks and executives were long gone.

"I don't think that's the problem," Rude replied. He seemed uncomfortable. "Reno had the right number for her parents – or at least, the number that's in her file, and in Dionne's file. Her father said that he didn't know Elena the first time someone called. The second time… well. They're not coming, put it that way."

"They do know how serious it is?" Tseng turned to Rude. Rude shrugged, in a way that was unmistakably affirmative. Tseng might have been able to accept that he was more or less estranged from his family but somehow it wasn't so easy to accept that this was also the case for Elena.

He took a deep breath and approached the door. The room was bigger than it had appeared from outside. Two nurses were busy in an administration area of sorts that looked out onto the rest of the unit. The smell of antiseptic and disinfectant was strong, and Tseng could almost see his face reflected in the white floor. As he approached Elena, he caught sight of a stuffed toy moogle that had been placed on a small unit beside the bed. It brought the trace of a smile to his face.

"That was Reno's idea," Rude spoke up, having noticed that Tseng was looking at the cream-coloured toy. "Who knows what the shop assistant must have thought when she saw Reno and I rifling through the soft toy section, arguing over which one was the cutest."

Tseng managed a subtle noise of amusement. Elena would have paid to see that, he thought.

His eyes worked their way over to look at her face. The moogle's inanimate complexion was healthier. A sheet with a blanket laid over the top covered Elena to the waist, and a white hospital gown was draped over her casually, only just high enough for dignity's sake. Her arms, shoulders and upper part of her chest were bare, save for the tubes and wires that dominated her body. She was completely inert, apart from the rhythmic, machine-controlled rise and fall of her chest. It was perhaps one of the only signs that she was really alive, together with the steady beeping of the heart monitor.

It hurt to look at her. The mere sight of her – the cuts, scrapes and bruises that marred her soft skin, the deeper injuries that threatened to take her life – made Tseng hungry for revenge with an intensity that he hadn't experienced in a very long time. She appeared so small and vulnerable, in a way that cruelly contradicted how capable she had always made sure she appeared in front of her colleagues. Yazoo and his brothers had taken that away from her. Tseng imagined that Elena would probably have hated for him to see her this way, but little did she know how much he hated it, too.

Tseng sat on the solitary chair beside the bed. He felt an urge to reach out and touch her hand but checked himself, realising only then that his own hands had balled into fists.

"We will finish them," Rude said suddenly. The bald Turk had moved to stand beside his boss. "One way or another." Rude might not have been the most vocal man but he could read body language as though it were an open window to the mind. Tseng, particularly just then, found it a refreshing trait. "Revenge is a dish best served cold, after all."

"It certainly is," Tseng agreed. He bowed his head and closed his eyes briefly. "I thought she would talk," he confessed with a sigh. "When the Remnants were… torturing her. But she," he shook his head, "she never said a word." He laughed bitterly. "And to think I used to tell her she talked too much."

"She learnt fast," Rude remarked. "Although, all her talking did grow on me."

Tseng raised an eyebrow and glanced up at Rude. The Turk simply shrugged. "What can I say – she fits in better than any of us thought she would. The Turks wouldn't be…" Rude nudged his sunglasses further up his nose. "Well, things wouldn't be the same without Elena. I think Reno had decided that when Don Corneo ran off with her up Da Chao."

The outline of a smile traced Tseng's lips. So it had been as early as then that Reno had come to the conclusion the rookie wasn't so bad. It was hard to believe that that was more than two years ago now.

"I'll give you some time alone," said Rude. "See you back at the Lodge."

Tseng gave a nod, his mind incapable of avoiding the idea that Rude's choice of words might have been deliberate. Why would he need time alone with Elena? Because Rude thought there was something going on? Or was it as innocent as the fact that the two of them had been through an ordeal together and it was simply the sensitive thing to do on Rude's part? Tseng rationalised that it was probably the latter; after all, what reason could Rude have had to think that Tseng's relationship with Elena was anything more than professional? Reno's office banter of a few days ago was just that, and anyone who knew Reno, which Rude did very well, knew better than to take him too seriously. The flipside to that, though, was that Rude knew his colleague almost _too_ well, enough so to recognise whether or not to read into his tittle-tattle. Whichever way Rude might have meant it, Tseng was in no mood to think about it now. Rude was not the sort of man to pry or to judge, or the sort to make backhanded insinuations, so the likelihood was that he had meant absolutely nothing at all by what he said. Tseng's over tired mind was, no doubt, jumping to paranoid conclusions.

Tseng looked at Elena's face and this time there was no need to refrain from reaching out to touch her. Other than the nurses busy somewhere behind him, they were alone. His fingers closed around her hand and he half expected her to move or respond in some way. But there was nothing. Everything continued exactly as it was before; her regular breaths via the ventilator, the intermittent beeping of the heart monitor. Tseng swallowed and gently lifted her hand, leaning forward at the same time so that his elbows came to rest on the bed guard. He pressed her palm to his cheek, wishing it were there because she had chosen to put it there and not because he had taken advantage of her drug-induced state. She didn't smell like the Elena he knew, either; familiar perfume had been replaced by the sterile tang of antiseptic.

Tseng returned Elena's hand to her side, though his fingers still lingered over hers. A movement in his peripheral field of vision, behind the blinds hanging in front of the windows that looked onto the corridor outside, prompted Tseng to glance at the door. It was as good as a reflex, sharpened by years of service in the Turks. At first he was slightly irritated by the fact that he could not just switch off such responses when he wasn't on duty, given that the muscles in his neck were making their protest felt. When he recognised the figure who appeared in the doorway, however, any sense of annoyance was channelled into unadulterated shock. It was just fortunate that all those years of service in the Turks had also sharpened his ability to conceal such reactions.

"Tseng," she said. Her face had changed a little, softened a bit, if anything. Her hair was longer than he remembered it to be. "It's certainly been a while."

"Dionne," Tseng nodded to her, without breaking eye contact. "It certainly has."

_-x-_


	10. Chapter 10

Dionne moved slowly towards the bed, her neutral expression stalling as she looked at Elena properly. Her eyes that were so reminiscent of Elena's became glassy as the extent of her sister's situation sunk in. This clearly was not what she had been expecting, Tseng thought.

Tseng rose from his seat and gestured for the former Turk to sit. Without waiting for a response, he crossed the room to retrieve another chair that was in the far corner. When he returned, Dionne was standing close to the bed, looking down at Elena with an emotional intensity he had rarely witnessed in her as a Turk. She had always been sternly professional and highly competent, carrying out her orders as though it were all so effortless to her. Tseng had consequently had a lot of faith in her. Liked her, even. Dionne had never really been one to fit in, though. She would spend her free time elsewhere, rarely socialise with her colleagues, and generally keep herself at arm's length from her immediate co-workers.

He found himself wondering what she must have been like as a sister. Tseng knew that she and Elena did not see eye to eye and they had, once or twice, come to blows when Dionne had still been a Turk and Elena a trainee. It seemed at the time that Elena was the only one capable of cracking Dionne's otherwise impenetrable wall of composure; when it came to disagreements with anyone else, Dionne would usually utter a few terse words and walk away, but that was not so with Elena. Tseng could well imagine that, as siblings, they knew very well which buttons to push in order to rile the other. Elena he knew had something of a complex about her sister outdoing her. Dionne, on the other hand, had never appeared outwardly competitive. She simply did her job, and she did it better than most. Casting his mind back a few days, he recalled the conversation he had had with Elena about Dionne's wedding; the deflated, hurt look on Elena's face as she relayed to him that she wasn't invited, and that her sister had only told her she was getting married the day before.

Tseng watched as Dionne gripped the bed guard firmly and realised the tight feeling mounting in his chest was discontentment, of a sharper nature than he had really expected. Whilst he reminded himself that he was still somewhat out of kilter after the events of the past few days, and he was probably subject to more heightened emotions as a result, there was no denying the fact that he felt protective towards Elena in light of her family's unsympathetic behaviour towards her. It would have been inhuman not to, he thought, especially now when Elena was so vulnerable and unable to stand up for herself.

"Elena?" Dionne muttered cautiously, reaching out to touch her but she hesitated before her fingertips could make contact. It was difficult to find an area that was unscathed enough to touch, even if Elena wasn't in a position to complain. "What happened?"

Tseng waited a few seconds before answering, his demeanour unaccommodating. "A mission didn't quite go to plan."

"Well, that much is obvious," Dionne replied shortly. "Let me guess – I'm out of the old boys' club so you're not going to tell me."

"Something like that," Tseng pulled his lips into an empty smile as he spoke. Dionne locked her gaze with his in that way she did when she was not planning on relenting. "We got our hands on something someone else wanted. Badly," he explained. "We were captured and tortured." She probably had a right to know the outline, he reasoned with himself.

Dionne swallowed and returned her gaze to Elena. Tseng thought that her hardness had declined over the years, even if she was clearly trying to contain her emotions. In fact, he would have been more disconcerted had she been as controlled as she was attempting to be. He noticed her eyes lingering on the bandage around his head. No doubt she thought he had got off lightly.

For a short while the only sounds in the room were of the machines keeping Elena alive and the occasional, hushed chatter of the two nurses in the administration area.

"Who told you?" Tseng asked. He was curious to know, since Rude had given him the impression that only her parents had been contacted; that no one had spoken to Dionne. Which could only mean one thing.

"My um, our father called me," Dionne replied, sniffing discreetly. She lowered herself slowly onto the chair, not once taking her eyes off Elena. "He said someone from a hospital in Healin had got in touch about Elena – that she wasn't in a good way. You might think me heartless, Tseng, but I wasn't going to sit sunning myself on the Costa del Sol after hearing that."

"Your honeymoon?" Tseng queried, eyes glistening with something akin to disdain. "I believe congratulations are in order." Dionne nodded, swallowing as she finally dared to allow her fingers to rest tentatively on her sister's hand, careful to avoid disturbing the tubes and dressings.

"So she told you," Dionne grimaced, glancing at Tseng. "Of course she did. Never could keep her mouth shut."

Tseng cocked his head a fraction to one side, expression far from amused. "Actually, I asked," he corrected her flatly. Dionne shifted in her seat and dropped her eyes as she realised that Tseng had not lost his authoritative touch, even if she was no longer his subordinate. A guilty expression crept onto her face as she looked at Elena, as though she expected her to react. But Elena remained as she was, eyes closed, her hand relaxed under Dionne's tentative grip. It seemed wrong that she and Tseng were talking over Elena so frankly, and it was clear that both of them felt it when their eyes met once more.

"Look," Dionne began, "I know you probably think I'm a right bitch, but I still care about her. We haven't always seen eye to eye, sure, but… she's still my sister."

"You know that I don't like to interfere," Tseng said, in a way that suggested he would be making an exception to that habit. In fact, his tone was loaded with implications and Dionne had always been sharp on the uptake.

"You have no idea how much I wanted her to be at the wedding. In recent months… we've been getting on a little better. The occasional phone call, birthday cards etcetera."

"But?" Tseng raised an eyebrow. Dionne sighed and sat back in her chair. She looked miserable, her cheeks flushed enough to rival the brilliant red of her loose silk blouse.

"Things aren't so straightforward," she shook her head. "Our parents—"

"Yes, where are they, by the way?" Tseng interrupted.

"You can't hold me responsible for their choices, Tseng," Dionne replied firmly. "Believe me, I don't like it any more than you do."

Tseng hesitated, expression reluctantly softening a little. There was an honesty in her face, in her voice, that he couldn't ignore no matter how much he might have been inclined to. He met her gaze. _Fair enough_ , he conceded with a drawn out blink of his eyes. Dionne tucked a stray strand of blond hair behind her ear. It was longer than she used to wear it, pushed back behind her head into a makeshift bun. Physically, she and Elena were very alike, even in their facial gestures. Elena might have been a little easier to read than Dionne but, for the occasional fleeting moment, Tseng could almost trick himself that it was Elena sitting across from him.

"As you probably know, her joining Shinra didn't go down well with our parents," Dionne continued, relaxing a little. Every so often, her eyes would switch to Elena's face. "They're very old fashioned and they're used to having to keep up appearances in their social circles – Junon high society hasn't exactly moved into this century yet. Keeping up with the Joneses is what they do best. And so they wanted the best of both worlds; a daughter with a glittering career – me – and a daughter who marries into a well-to-do family – Elena. The ironic thing is… I never—" Dionne broke off, taking a deep breath. "I never wanted a high-flying career. The Turks… it was just a job to me. Nothing more. I was good at it because I threw myself into the work. If I hadn't I would probably have had a breakdown. My husband is an ex-SOLDIER – we met whilst I was a Turk and we… well," she cleared her throat, clearly deciding to skip over the details. "With time, I realised that I wanted to settle down – to stop having to constantly look over my shoulder, to stop putting my life second to Shinra's needs. I wanted more from life than isolation and dirty work. I'm not the kind of person who lives to work – it's not me." Dionne released a deep sigh, as though she were relieved to have got that off her chest. Tseng judged by the way she kept looking at Elena that these were things Dionne wanted her younger sister to know; things that she had left unsaid until now.

"I never would have been able to go through what she has to protect Shinra's secrets," she admitted, struggling to hold Tseng's gaze. "My heart wasn't in it the way hers is. No doubt you think less of me because of that, but there came a point where I realised I wasn't prepared to die for the Company. And that's when I knew I had to go – you had my resignation the day after, in fact." An earnestness had crept into her voice. "Elena always thought I went out of my way to outdo her when, really, that wasn't my intention at all. I was hard on her, yes – because I knew how good she could be. She responded well when I told her she wasn't good enough; she'd go the extra mile to make sure she was. When I quit, I knew it wouldn't be long before she made it into the Turks – if I did nothing else for her, I made her hell bent on being a better Turk than me."

Tseng looked at Elena, his eyes drawn to the dressing covering the bullet wound in her chest; a reminder of the fact that she had risked her life for him, and for the mission. If it wasn't for her, he could well be dead and the Remnants could easily have obtained Jenova back at the Crater. It was certain, however, that there was no way they would have escaped from the observation base if Elena had not managed to free first herself, and then him, despite the torture she had endured. And there was little doubt in to his mind what would have happened had they remained there. Elena was as good a Turk as he could ever hope to work with. But he also knew that, to him, she was an awful lot more than that.

"I have to admit your resignation came as a surprise," Tseng replied, breaking from his thoughts. "You were always so… dedicated. But having said that," he reconsidered. "I never did think your heart was in it. But then the Turks isn't really a group for those who wear their heart on their sleeve. Some might even go as far as to say that the General Affairs Department isn't a place for those who have a heart at all."

Dionne released a short laugh.

"In answer to your assumption that I might think less of you," Tseng continued. "I actually think it takes a certain amount of nerve to be able to look at oneself honestly and realise where your limits lie. Most in our profession like to think they have none." He straightened in his chair and uncrossed his legs. "I was, however, a little surprised that you accepted Shinra's 'terms of departure'." His eyes darted pointedly to Elena and back again.

Dionne's gaze once again fell upon the floor. Turks were privy to the most damaging of Company secrets, and considering Shinra was the sort of enterprise to wipe whole towns off the map when it came to a convincing cover up, it was an unspoken rule that Turks did not simply walk away from their jobs. Many did not live long enough to quit, whilst those who did were usually sufficiently bribed and blackmailed – the latter more so than the former – into silence. Shinra's version of an Official Secrets Act came in the form of an unsigned execution order in the Turk leader's bottom desk drawer, which could be retrieved and signed if it was suspected that a former employee was even considering selling information.

"Heidegger might have liked to refer to Elena as my 'insurance policy' when he was informed I was resigning," Dionne replied quietly, "but it's a 'policy' Shinra will never be cashing in on. You know as well as I do – and you knew it then – that I would never leak any information. Not when it would cost her her _life_ – and probably me mine."

"And supposing someone came after you, having found out who you were?" Tseng raised an eyebrow. "It has happened. Albeit once."

"That particular Turk was careless," Dionne replied, her eyes boring into his. "What do you expect if you go around bragging about your glory days as a Turk? Besides," she went on, "the Turks isn't exactly a high profile group so it's not likely that anyone's going to come looking for me with the intention of prising the finer points of Shinra's dirty past from my lips. You rewrote my record yourself – as far as most people are concerned, I worked in Urban Planning. And even if they did, don't think for a minute that I've allowed myself to become rusty. You know that I'm far from careless, Tseng."

Tseng's face lightened into an unsurprised smile. "I do," he gave a nod. Dionne nodded also, as though satisfied that she had got her point across. For a moment, Tseng felt sorry for her; having to come to Healin to find her sister in intensive care, and having to rake over and justify elements of her past and present that she would probably rather have left alone for the time being. However, a question sprang to mind that he could not help but follow through.

"Do your parents know about it?" he asked, his tone a little more gentle than before. But just a little. "That Elena is the reason you were allowed to leave so easily?"

Dionne sighed. "It has come up in one or two family arguments," she nodded. "Elena came to see them not long after she was promoted to the Turks. I think she thought that maybe she had a chance of reconciling with them once things had worked out more or less as they wanted. They only let her in to save embarrassing themselves by arguing in front of the house," Dionne shook her head. "A lot was said – none of it very nice – and I remember my father saying to her that she should be more like me; that she should learn to respect them. Elena lost it at that point, and told them about how it was that I was allowed to leave the Turks so easily."

Tseng raised an eyebrow, urging Dionne to continue. Admittedly he felt marginally uncomfortable delving into Elena's private life – and Dionne's, for that matter – but after all that had happened he could not deny that he was virtually overcome by the desire to know what could possibly justify Elena's parents not being prepared to come to the hospital. He was rather taken aback that Dionne was being so forthcoming when she had always been such a private person, but he supposed the current situation with Elena had something to do with it. And it seemed she was almost grateful for the opportunity to talk things over. He did not doubt that she was the sort of person who bottled things in and allowed them to ferment to the point that something had to give.

"He slapped her," Dionne said quietly. "Told her not to be so poisonous, and that she was only saying it because she was jealous of me. I didn't tell them before because… well, I suppose I was ashamed that Elena was my get-out clause – ashamed that I allowed her to accept Shinra's terms. And I suppose I also was in denial – I refused to see her as my so-called insurance policy because I knew that I would never sell information, so in many ways the whole thing just felt unreal. I set my father straight, of course. He went quiet for a few days, and then carried on as though nothing had happened." Dionne trailed off, looking almost bewildered. "So yes," she cleared her throat, the strength returning to her voice. "They know. For all the good it's done. Elena hasn't seen them since. Our parents are both too proud to just give in, to accept that things didn't quite go as they'd wished, and move on. They're just… not like that."

Dionne sat forward in her chair and smoothed a hand over her face. Tseng had never seen her look so unhappy.

"You know, Elena was so determined to join the Turks," Dionne breathed, and it was clear from her face that she was reminiscing in her mind. "She wanted to serve the Shinra Company she believed in, to fulfil her sense of duty. She'll never say as much but she was so proud that our father worked for the military academy, and I think it inspired her to do something similar. A couple of years after she joined Shinra, when she was making progress in the Security Department, I realised we could… 'swap', if you like. I could take on the life our parents wanted for her, and she could take on mine. It seemed like the perfect solution only, in our parents' eyes, it wasn't so simple. I mean, I had thought it might take them a while to come round but… for Elena, that never happened."

Tseng had always known how set Elena had been on joining the Turks. And, during their conversation the other day, he had discovered just what price she had paid for it.

"So they accepted your decision to leave Shinra?"

Dionne shook her head. "Not straight away but they came round in time. After all, I'd been at Shinra for a good number of years, and I didn't leave under a cloud. When they found out my now-husband is reasonably well connected… well, they were pleased. They just never forgave Elena. In their own way, I think they're proud of her but… they'll never forget that she 'embarrassed' them by going against their wishes. But it's more than that," Dionne added, eyes glazing over as she seemed to recall something.

"I suppose… as children, I was always the favourite. I did as I was told, and I did well at what I was told to do. Elena," she shook her head. "Elena didn't go out of her way to annoy them, she just didn't go along with things she really didn't want to do. So she ended up the black sheep, by no real fault of her own. As she fell out of favour with our parents, the divide between us also widened. She got it into her head that I was better than her, I suppose because, in our parents' eyes, I was. She became jealous and competitive… and yes, at times I hated her – not as a person, but because she had it so wrong about me having the perfect life. If anything, I used to envy how strong she was – that she had the guts to go for what she wanted regardless of our parents. I never could. It was easier to go with the flow, even if I also did actually believe in being loyal to our parents. Sure, they might be misguided but we never wanted for anything as children. They honestly believe they did their best for us and… well," Dionne shrugged. "I'll always stand by them, even if I don't agree with every decision they make."

Dionne broke off as a nurse appeared and smiled briefly to both of them. She fetched out the folder at the end of the bed and began writing in between glancing up at the various monitors.

"Even if that means going against what you want in favour of placating them?" Tseng asked.

"I know I've let Elena down," Dionne conceded. "I should have been stronger – I should have stuck up for her more, and I should have invited her to the wedding regardless. I guess I'm just not made that way – that's probably why I made such a good Shinra lapdog. I did what I was told to the letter."

"You should probably have that conversation with Elena," Tseng replied. Curious or not, he wasn't going to wade too far into what was, first and foremost, something that was Dionne and Elena's personal business. Elena was the one who needed to hear those words, not him.

"I know," Dionne agreed, shifting her chair back slightly so the nurse could pass between her and the bed in order to continue making her checks and observations. "And it's wrong that it's taken something like this to happen for me to get round to it. Things are going to change, Tseng. It's not an ideal world and there's no easy solution to all of this but… when I said that I believe in standing by our parents, I don't mean to imply that I won't stand by Elena, too."

Their gaze met for an intense moment, where both of them seemed to be thinking the exact same thought. _If she makes it through this, that is._

The nurse slotted the folder back into its place at the end of the bed, cast her eyes briefly over Elena once more as if to make sure that everything was as it should be, and left.

"It's ironic, you know. Elena was always so insecure about being outdone by me all the time," Dionne began, her eyes still fixed on Tseng's face. Something told him that she was going somewhere with what seemed like just a passing thought spoken out loud. "At heart, I felt it was really the other way around – and in more ways than one," Dionne looked knowingly at Tseng, a mildly suggestive expression on her face.

"Meaning?" Tseng asked, inwardly unsettled by the challenging glint in her eyes.

Dionne smiled. "Well, firstly as a Turk, and secondly she's always gone her own way regardless of any pressure to do otherwise." Tseng was now convinced Dionne was working up to something. Her tone was just a little too relaxed, as though what she had just said was only the opening line to a more damning revelation. She was looking at Tseng intently.

"Thirdly – now, don't get me wrong," Dionne continued. "I'm a happily married woman, but there was a time when I thought you were… charming. It seems my little sister here has made considerably more of an impression on you than I did, though."

Tseng stiffened ever so slightly, which was in no way an adequate reflection of the way his stomach clenched. The idea that Dionne had had an interest in him came as something of a surprise but it was not enough of one to rock the proverbial boat. The fact that she had picked up on his feelings for Elena, however, was not something Tseng had reckoned with and he found himself suddenly rather uneasy. Perhaps he ought to of have seen it coming; Dionne could easily have seen him holding Elena's hand before she came in and she had obviously jumped to all the right conclusions. He considered himself lucky that it had not been Reno, Rude or even worse, Rufus. The last thing he needed just yet was a bombardment of question marks over his professionalism as a Turk, which involvement with Elena would almost certainly cause. There was no telling what the reaction would be to the news that the Turk Director had a thing for a junior Turk. He would have to be more careful until he was ready to deal with the implications of anyone else finding out.

"You know, I was thinking earlier, Tseng, that that shirt does nothing for your complexion," Dionne remarked wryly. "But it seems the colour's miraculously returned to your face, so I take it back; navy looks good on you." There was now absolutely no mistaking what she was referring to, and clearly she knew he had interpreted her correctly. "I've always known you to be protective of your Turks," Dionne continued when Tseng said nothing, her voice deepening with earnestness. "But with her… it's different, isn't it?"

There was no point in denying it, Tseng decided. Dionne was no longer his subordinate and, as such, he could not dismiss her with one of his trademark glares and instruct her to forget whatever nonsense she was thinking. Had she been anyone else, and were this any other time, however, he might well have tried. "Yes," he gave in, eyes locking onto Dionne's.

Had his feelings really been so clear when he had fought Elena's corner with Dionne? Was it so obvious that it was more than just a professional courtesy for his gravely injured partner? Reno would probably have done the same, he thought, and would she have jumped to the same conclusion with him? _Of course not,_ Tseng chided himself. _Because the simple matter is… you're not Reno._ As he had said himself earlier, he did not usually like to interfere and he had done precisely that, which was possibly sufficient evidence that he cared enough about Elena to cast his usual professional habits to one side. Reno, on the other hand, could not have given two hoots about whether he trampled over more personal, sensitive ground if it meant defending a fellow Turk, so no one would have thought anything of it had he been in Tseng's shoes.

But Tseng did not regret that he had said what he had in Elena's defence. In fact, to do otherwise would have been more than regrettable.

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me," Dionne reassured him. Apparently she knew him better than he gave her credit for.

Tseng allowed himself a vague smirk. This was the second time in only a short period that yet another former Turk was second-guessing him. He really was going to have to be more careful in the coming days.

"Although I will say that I'm glad," Dionne went on, a contented warmth in her eyes. "God knows, she's had a thing for you for who knows how long." Apparently, Dionne also knew her sister rather better than Elena gave her credit for.

Tseng wondered for a moment why it was that his feelings had become so visible. He had been successfully keeping a lid on them for long enough prior to that afternoon when he had kissed Elena. Come to think of it, why had he allowed them to overrun him on that day in the first place? Because she was upset and he wanted to comfort her? Because every day was becoming a trial when it came to not showing any emotion towards her and that day had just brought things to a head? Because every time she brushed against him or made casual physical contact that he would barely have noticed were it from anyone else, he had to resist the urge to just hold her there, or pull her into him, and there came a point when he couldn't resist any longer? Then there was the fact that he had nearly lost her, and still could. He had been helpless to do anything other than watch as the brothers had their way with her, helpless to do anything when she had taken a bullet for him. Not to mention that he had physically been through the mill himself, which had taken more out of him than he had really realised. What human being, Turk or not, could have pulled off an act of indifference after all of that? Still, though, he was annoyed with himself for allowing not one, but two former colleagues of his to pick up on his feelings for Elena so easily. _Note to self: keep away from Turks – former or present – when you've had your head bashed in by the Science Department's failed experiments._

"I should leave you some time alone," Tseng said levelly, rising from his seat. The room swam a little but, thankfully, not as much as it had done when he had first got out of bed that afternoon. He glanced at his watch; it was now evening.

"It was a lucky guess, Tseng," Dionne replied, looking up at him intently. Apologetically, even. Clearly she had not intended to unsettle him.

The corners of his mouth tightened, pulling his face into a more amicable expression. It was not quite a smile, but then Tseng felt he did not really have it in him to smile just then. Worry and concern for Elena appeared to have drained any positive energy from him. "It's all right," he shook his head softly.

"I know you like to think that you shouldn't feel things like most of us do – or at least, that a man in your position shouldn't let it show – but you're not a robot."

"Oh," Tseng replied, a knowing expression on his face, "I know I'm not a robot, believe me. Sometimes, though, certain things would be a lot simpler if I were." He stepped closer to the bed and looked down at Elena, daring to allow his fingers to make contact with her right forearm, which was supported on a pillow wedged between her body and the bed guard. "But then…" he reconsidered, "what kind of existence would that be?"

Dionne looked up at him from her sitting position. Something in her eyes – a sadness coupled with regret – made Tseng think that she had tried it. It would somewhat explain her almost mechanical efficiency as a Turk.

"Not a very pleasant one," she replied, blinking a few times. Tseng stood there a couple of seconds longer, then took a step back from the bed, his fingers reluctant to part with Elena's skin, his eyes reluctant to leave her face.

"You know," Tseng began, stopping mid-pivot. He might not have been smiling but there was a vague humour in his dark eyes. "Reno will be dreadfully disappointed."

Dionne was quick to catch on. "All that flirting was never serious?" she frowned.

Tseng merely raised a teasing eyebrow. When Reno had first joined the Turks, he had made no secret of his interest in Elena's older sister. "Oh, I don't know."

Dionne laughed and swatted a dismissive hand. Tseng was about to turn, when Dionne spoke.

"Look after yourself, Tseng," she said. "And who knows – maybe see you soon."

Tseng nodded to her. "Maybe."

_-x-_

_It was a guilty kind of enjoyment, really. Elena could tell herself that she took great pleasure in pushing Dionne to the limits of her self-control but there was no denying the distinct undercurrent of uncertainty that always accompanied their verbal sparring, or the bitter aftertaste that followed. She was just mindful that any sense of doubt remained an undercurrent, and nothing more. Sometimes there was nothing more satisfying than bulldozing Dionne's self-satisfied composure, especially when the Turk always took great pleasure in mocking Elena's tendency to be over-emotional and impulsive._ Well, touché, _Elena smirked to herself as Dionne's voice raised to a pitch that was distinctly outside the range of controlled._ _Today, any vague notion of guilt Elena might have experienced at punching below the belt was quite positively quashed by sheer anger._

_"Do you have to be so infuriating?" Dionne ranted, flinging her hands out before her, fingers splayed. "I mean, how hard is it to have a civil conversation with you?"_

_Elena folded her arms and pushed herself away from the row of lockers she had been leaning against. Dionne was standing on the other side of the bench in the middle of the side section of the locker room. "You mean, why can't I just do as you tell me?" Elena snorted, moving so that she was standing closer to her sister. Dionne said nothing but folded her arms also and shifted her weight into a more defiant stance. Elena continued coming until she was virtually standing nose to nose with her. Whenever they argued, which was about all they ever did when they saw each other, Elena always found herself resenting that her sister was a few inches taller than her. A bit of extra height would have made things so much more intense. Elena dropped her gaze for a moment, then glared at her sister as a contemptuous smile played on her lips. "I leave that kind of thing to you – after all, you're good at doing as you're told, aren't you?" Her voice was little more than a whisper but ten times as hard-hitting._

_Dionne raised her chin so that she was looking down at Elena from an even greater advantage. Elena saw the flicker of anger in her face, in her eyes, but Dionne appeared to be making an effort to restrain herself._ Well _, Elena mused to herself,_ there's time yet.

 _"Swap your shift," Dionne said slowly, enunciating every word. She levelled her gaze at Elena, reversing her previous move of widening the difference in height. "If you go to that charity function tonight in any other capacity than as a social call, they'll disown you," Dionne continued. "Publicly, in front of everyone. Someone will look at you and ask them if that isn't their younger daughter, working in Shinra's Security Department – how_ did _she end up there of all places?" Dionne cocked her head, her voice feigning surprise as she slipped into the role of some pretentious aristocrat. Elena thought she was all too reminiscent of their mother. "And they'll deny it," she said flatly, suddenly Dionne once more. "Deny that it's you – that you're their daughter. Is that what you want?"_

_Elena swallowed. Shinra's annual charity function was the perfect opportunity for her to rack up some experience of working a large-scale event. Her captain had handpicked her to be there, not minding the door or patrolling somewhere else away from the thick of it all, but actually in the convention hall amongst the guests. And he had selected only ten out of the numerous hopeful security officers. Needless to say, Elena was not keen on the idea of passing up the role simply because her well-to-do parents were on the guest list. According to Dionne, they attended every year._

_"I'm only thinking of you, believe it or not," Dionne sighed, straightening her uniform tie. "Just swap your shift and you won't even have to be there."_

_"You mean you're thinking of yourself," Elena replied bitterly, if also rather quietly. "What, did our mother tell you to make sure I wouldn't embarrass them?"_

_"Don't be ridiculous," Dionne frowned condescendingly. "How would she even know you're going to be there?"_

_"Oh please, I know you report back to them like you did when we were at school," Elena snapped, mirroring her sister's expression. Dionne sighed, rolling her eyes as if to say that she wasn't in the mood to be having that particular argument for the umpteenth time just now._

_"They have no idea," she said, placing a hand on her hip. "But obviously they'll see you in there, and the first thing they will really see is that uniform," Dionne nodded to Elena, who was dressed in a fitted white t-shirt and the blue slacks of Shinra's Security Department. She was in the final months of her training to become a Turk and worked at the same time in the Security Department, gaining experience and earning a regular income. When she had left home a couple of years ago and applied to Shinra, she had been advised to take a job in the Security Department in order to complement her Turk training, which was less intense that it would have been had there been any vacancies in the General Affairs Department. Once she completed her training, she would be put on 'standby', meaning she would be considered for the job only when a vacancy became available. "And let's face it," Dionne shrugged, "it's not exactly the most prestigious position, working in Shinra Security."_

_Elena felt the breath catch in her throat. Somehow, it always took the wind from her sails when Dionne resorted to snobbery, and she always did eventually. Elena had been warming to the idea that Dionne really did have her interests at heart when she told her not to be on duty at the function; that her older sister was trying to protect her feelings. But of course that wasn't the case. Elena could have kicked herself for overlooking the fact that Dionne just knew which heartstrings to jerk; namely that Elena, deep down, wanted her parents to accept her decision to train as a Turk. To be proud of her, even._

_"You know, that's what I've always loved about you," Elena replied, nodding quickly and managing a weak smile. "Always so supportive and encouraging. I have to work to put myself through training – not like you, who had it all paid for by Mummy and Daddy. You're nothing more than a spoiled brat who likes throwing her weight around. Well, fuck you, Dionne. I'll go just to make you squirm when they ask you what the hell I'm doing there. Explain your way out of that one."_

_Elena was fairly sure that the hurt was visible in her face; Dionne was always keen to point out how emotionally transparent she was. And as much as Elena could barely resist lashing out at Dionne, it was usually a telltale sign her sister had touched a nerve, or at the very least got under her skin._

_"Oh, do what you like," Dionne shook her head, turning slightly and stepping to the side. "You usually do without any regard for anyone else, least of all our parents. But don't say that I didn't warn you, or that I didn't_ try _to look out for you."_

_"Don't pretend you're doing this for me," Elena replied sourly. "You've never given a rat's ass about my feelings, so don't think I'm going to believe you suddenly do now."_

_"Grow up, Elena," Dionne retorted dismissively. "Maybe then we can have a proper conversation." She hesitated, lips parted as though she were yet to finish. "And perhaps," she said, her voice not quite as self-confident as it had been a moment ago, "perhaps it wouldn't do you any harm to give a 'rat's ass' about our parents' feelings for once."_

_Elena, now thoroughly pissed off, decided she was justified in firing whatever cheap shot she could at Dionne. It would only be return-fire, after all._

_"I wonder if they literally did bankroll you into the Turks," Elena remarked, feigning casualness, head tilting to one side. "After all, our father worked in the Military Academy, and I'm sure that that along with a little donation to the Company would have been enough to get you in."_

_Dionne whipped around so fast that Elena realised too late to react. Rough fingers clenched around the neck of her t-shirt and Elena found herself being swung round and pushed back violently against the lockers. A padlock dug painfully into her back. "I'm at the top of my profession and you know it," Dionne seethed. "You, on the other hand – well, it's you who'd need bankrolling into the Turks, Elena, not me." Dionne paused, digging her fist into Elena's throat as she tightened her grip on her t-shirt. "You – well, you're so average it's painful. If they really wanted you in the Turks, you wouldn't be stuck in Security. They'd snap you up like that," she snapped her fingers close to Elena's face. "But you wouldn't last one day in the Turks."_

_Elena remembered her captain telling her once that she shouldn't dish out anything she couldn't take. And how right he was. As her next move came to mind, Elena decided that she was prepared to take whatever Dionne chose to throw back._

_She struggled to free herself but Dionne wedged her body up against hers, preventing her from hitting or kicking out. Although the lockers would hinder her from gaining as much momentum as she would have liked, Elena braced her head back against the metal door. As she did, she noticed a movement somewhere behind Dionne but it was too late to stop now._

_Elena jerked her head forwards with as much force as she dared, plunging her forehead into the bridge of Dionne's nose. Dionne let out a short shriek, stumbling backwards with her hands clasped over her face. Blood was already visible streaming down her chin. Elena fought for balance briefly, having been released from her sister's clutches rather more quickly than she had been prepared for. As Dionne thunked down on the bench, Elena looked up to see a man in a Turk uniform standing in the central walkway that ran through the centre of the six sections of the Security Deparment's locker room, arms folded. Given the open plan nature of the area, which was arranged much like the two-dimensional, unfolded net plan of a cube, Elena wondered how much he might have heard. No doubt it was the sound of their raised voices that had caught his attention in the first place. He was looking straight at her, and it was with a sickening pang in the pit of her stomach that she recognised him as Tseng. It suddenly occurred to her just how unladylike that must have looked, not to mention how insubordinate it was to assault a superior, even if she had just successfully subdued a Turk._

_"I'll see to it that you won't work the charity event," Dionne snapped, voice muffled by the hand that was protectively covering her bleeding nose. She was clearly completely unaware of the fact that they had company. She cautiously removed her hand from her face and inspected the blood on her palm. Her nose did not appear broken, and Elena found herself oddly relieved._

_"No, you won't."_

_Dionne whipped round in her seat, and Elena could only imagine the look of sheer horror on her face. Now that was satisfying. Tseng's voice was almost impossibly clipped and collected._

_"Sir, I—" Dionne began hastily, rising from her seat._

_"Sit down," Tseng interrupted her, his tone unchanged. "You do not interfere with the Security Department's shifts unless given authorisation to do so. Is that clear?"_

_"Of course, sir," Dionne nodded once. She was obviously fighting to regain her usual calmness, and to her credit she was about halfway there. Elena, on the other hand, felt suddenly out of her depth as Tseng's eyes settled on her. "You are dismissed," he said to Dionne, sparing her only a brief glance. "Stop by the infirmary on your way; I need to know you're fit for this afternoon's mission."_

_Dionne nodded again, rose fluidly from the bench and was gone. Now that they were alone, Elena felt the nerves swelling from her gut. She had only seen Tseng on one or two occasions before but she had heard rumours about how rigorously professional he was._

_"It's Elena, isn't it?" he asked smoothly, his face giving absolutely nothing away._

_"Y-yes," Elena replied, trying to get a grip on herself. She might also have heard during one session or other of locker room banter that Tseng had a forte for martial arts, with his speciality being the old Wutai tradition of causing pain by utilising various pressure points on the human body. Naturally she had scoffed at such rumours, as had many others. Now that he was approaching her with an impenetrable expression, however, she began to wonder if there was any truth in it._

_"Impressive," he remarked with a nod, breaking eye contact with her for about a second. "Overpowering a Turk." He was watching Elena's eyes make quick but small movements from side to side as she tried to anticipate what was coming. He was standing a few feet away, arms relaxed at his sides, but still Elena had the sensation of being hemmed in by him. She felt she ought to respond, even if she wasn't convinced that her tongue was quite up to the job without tripping over itself._

_"Thank you," Elena replied, unsettled rather than pleased at receiving praise from the leader of the group she so yearned to be a part of. "But…" Elena glanced up at him, as though unsure of whether or not to continue. Tseng was looking at her expectantly. "Things got out of hand, sir – that shouldn't have happened."_

_Tseng smiled. Somehow, it led Elena to believe that he had heard at least a good part of her argument with Dionne. "Quite," he said slowly. "It would do your career prospects no harm to remember that the next time you find yourself tempted to assault a member of the Turks, be they your sister or not."_

_"Yes, sir," Elena nodded. Tseng held her gaze for a few moments longer, then dipped his head and turned on his heel. Before he began walking, he spoke once more._

_"Good luck this evening, although I'm sure you won't need it."_

_Elena watched him go, her lips parted in disbelief. It wasn't long, though, before an unstoppable smile crossed her face._

_-x-_


	11. Chapter 11

Despite that it had only been four days since Tseng had last climbed the familiar wooden steps up to the Healin Lodge that served as Shinra's headquarters, it somehow felt an awful lot longer. And the last time he had come up those stairs, Tseng reflected, he had certainly taken the ease with which he had accomplished the ascent very much for granted. He stopped for a moment, one hand on the door handle and the other touching his forehead as he caught his breath. From past experience he knew that he would return to normal within a few days, though he had never been very patient in that respect. Tseng straightened, adjusted his tie and swiped his keycard through the reader on the outside of the door.

The reception room was deserted, although the cushions of the leather sofa were rumpled and a cigarette was smouldering in the ashtray on the small table positioned beside it. Reno and Rude often sat there to relax between missions and paper work, and Tseng presumed they must have either just left the Lodge, or Rufus had summoned them to his office located along the adjoining corridor. The cigarette probably belonged to Rude, since Reno was never one to abandon a cigarette halfway through. Rude, however, only smoked when he was stressed, which wasn't all too often.

Tseng set off down the corridor to the Turks' office, conscious of how loud his footsteps were on the wooden floor. Rufus was not expecting him back at work just yet but Tseng was not inclined to sneak around as though he ought not to have been there; Rufus he could deal with, but fermenting at home in his apartment, enduring memories of his and Elena's capture he could not. Tseng had his ways of dealing with things, and finding a sense of normality was generally an effective place to begin.

The office he shared with Reno, Rude and Elena was also deserted. He left the door ajar, deciding the room could do with some air. As he went over to open the windows on the opposite side of the office, he found himself thinking that it was somewhat messier than he recalled it to have been a few days ago. And of course, the worst offender was Reno's desk. Paper work was scattered haphazardly across his workspace, completely obscuring his computer keyboard. Tseng counted at least three empty mugs amongst all the papers, and Reno's jacket was slung over the back of his swivel chair. Rude's desk, in contrast, was as orderly as ever, and his own was pretty much as he had left it, barring a couple of files that had been placed in his in-tray. He made a mental note to look over them later, anticipating them to be concerning the Remnants, when the navy-coloured outer of the top file made his heart jump into his throat. Navy blue was reserved for members of the Turks, and there on the front of the file, printed in capital letters, was Elena's name.

**ELENA BECKER, DEPARTMENT OF GENERAL AFFAIRS**

Tseng sighed, having forgotten that her file would need updating in light of their last mission. And so would his for that matter, although Rufus would no doubt be seeing to that; the task always fell to a superior. Tseng would have to submit the medical section of Elena's file to Lara for her to bring up to date, and he would also have to file a copy of his report in her file. That was standard procedure. Tseng left the file where it was and paced over to Elena's desk, which was opposite his own. Report writing could wait for a while yet, until after the situation with the Remnants had been resolved. It might have gone against his usual sense of efficiency, and a small voice in his head told him that it would have been better to just get it over with, like ripping off a plaster, but Tseng knew he lacked the clarity and objectivity required to write that particular report just yet.

He smoothed a finger along the front edge of Elena's desk, his eyes picking their way over her laptop to the neat pile of documents at one end, eventually coming to rest on a set of keys. Tseng assumed Elena must have left them there before their mission to the Crater, although it was unusual for her to be forgetful. But then she had had a lot on her mind, as Tseng well knew, and not just with regard to Dionne. Other than a small pot plant, and her keys, she had left nothing personal on display. Releasing a sigh, Tseng sat down in Elena's swivel chair. It was almost tempting to open one of the desk drawers, just to find something that would make him feel closer to her, but Tseng couldn't quite bring himself to.

"Well, at least it's a start. Cloud might not have managed to finish them off at the Forgotten City last night, but I'm sure it'll only be a matter of time. I mean, he's not exactly going to let the three psychos mess with his kids, is he?"

Reno. And probably Rude as well.

The door opened just as Tseng rose from Elena's chair. Reno, clearly about to say something else to Rude regarding the current situation with the Remnants, stopped abruptly in the doorway as he caught sight of the Turk leader. He closed his mouth and then, true to form, opened it again.

"Tseng—" Reno began, having apparently forgotten that Rude was standing behind him and waiting to enter the office. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know, Reno," Tseng replied. "I work here, or had you forgotten?"

Reno laughed and shook his head slightly, as if to concede that he had lost a point in some contest of wit.

"Very funny. You know what I mean," Reno folded his arms. "You're supposed to be resting." Tseng stepped out from behind Elena's desk and moved around to his own, knowing that it would not have gone unnoticed that he had been sitting in the wrong chair even if Reno was yet to make reference to it.

"Well, as you can see, I've finished resting. As much as you might disagree, Reno, it gets to be rather tedious just sitting around."

"Haha, well, you know me – this backside was meant for sitting on and who am I to deny it its purpose in life?" Reno shrugged. "Although these last few days I don't think I've actually seen hide nor hair of my bed." Tseng refrained from telling him that he looked as much. The scrapes and bruises he had sustained at the hands of the Remnants were starting to fade, but Reno was looking more drawn than he had on the night he had flown out to fetch Tseng and Elena from the Shinra safe house. It was visible in his eyes, though, that it wasn't purely physical fatigue; uncharacteristically for Reno, his face was dull with worry. It appeared that he was coping with the situation, though, and Tseng knew well that it was far from easy being landed with the position of Acting Turk Director whilst being in the midst of a crisis, not to mention being grossly understaffed.

Reno took a few steps into the office, finally allowing Rude through the doorway.

"Sir," the bald Turk nodded to Tseng. "It's good to see you back." Tseng dipped his head in return.

"You're sure you're ready to be back, though? I mean... you've not exactly had an easy time of it," Reno queried.

"I'm sure," Tseng gave a nod, looking at Reno with something of an appreciative expression.

"Well, in that case," Reno's lips broadened into a grin. "Good to see you, boss."

Tseng found himself smiling, and in the same instant realised it might have been the first natural smile to grace his face in days.

"So um, how's Elena doing?" Reno asked, sitting down in his chair. Tseng exhaled slowly. So Reno was feeling her absence, too.

"No change." Reno blinked, his mind processing the fact the answer to his question had, quite unexpectedly, come from behind him. The three Turks looked simultaneously to the doorway, where Rufus had positioned his wheelchair. Although the President favoured the support of a crutch in public, with a view to maintaining a more a capable image, he could not deny that the wheelchair had its uses, sneaking up on his employees noiselessly being one of them. "Although when I spoke to Dr Stein earlier this morning, she seemed more positive."

No one moved for a few moments, other than Rufus who fixed his gaze on Tseng.

"Well, that's something," Reno broke the silence.

"Tseng, I would like a word," said Rufus. He wheeled himself backwards in one smooth motion, then pivoted on the rear wheels of his chair and disappeared in the direction of his office. Reno released a snort after a heavy pause, once it was reasonable to assume the President was out of earshot.

"That's the third time this week," he shook his head. "Damn chair. I swear he's wanted to do a 'Tseng' for years."

Tseng glanced disdainfully at Reno before rising from his seat. The Turk leader's knack for conveniently appearing unannounced, usually when his subordinates were up to something they shouldn't have been, was no secret.

_-x -_

Rufus' office in the Lodge might have been less than half the size of his previous one in the former Shinra Headquarters in Midgar but still it retained a sense of grandeur. Two luscious, leafy plants stood in the corners on either side of the President's chrome-framed, glass desk. On the wall behind his black leather chair hung a large print of the Shinra logo, encased in a black and silver frame. A deep red and black patterned rug covered most of the floorboards. It looked to be of Wutain origin, and was thus probably extortionately expensive. Tseng remembered his parents having such a floor-covering in the house where he grew up, and he knew that it had taken a sizeable chunk out of their bank account. He very much doubted that it would have made such a dent in the President's. Rufus didn't know what it was to be anything less than moneyed – he was the kind of man who would look and behave filthy rich dressed in a bin liner – even if he had been learning to see the value of life before its price tag in recent months.

"Well, if you're sure you're ready, I don't suppose there's much I can do to change your mind," Rufus sighed. "And I can't deny we could use the extra pair of hands."

"What's the latest with the Remnants? I gather from Reno that Cloud has got involved," Tseng replied.

"He went after them to the Forgotten City last night, yes," Rufus nodded. He was leaning back in his chair, left ankle resting on his right knee. His unbandaged, glacial eye was focussed on the surface of his desk, as though his mind were elsewhere. "It was no surprise, really. Not after the brothers made off with those two kids that live with him." His tone verged on flat and dismissive, and Tseng was now convinced that Rufus was plotting something. "How successful he was, though, I'm not sure. The brothers are still alive, and the children who were taken seem to have disappeared."

Rufus glanced up at Tseng, who was sitting in the chair in front of his desk, looking at him with a sceptical expression. Rufus smiled at this.

"So it won't surprise you to hear I've come up with a contingency plan," he raised an eyebrow.

"Not at all." Tseng's scepticism remained, however, and he now felt a little apprehensive. It wasn't so much that Tseng did not trust the young President to come up with a viable plan, but more that desperate situations had a nasty habit of calling for desperate measures.

"And you're not wrong to be concerned," Rufus continued, only too familiar with Tseng's present expression. "It _is_ a bit risky – but we can't hang around while we wait for Strife to get his backside into gear." Rufus stopped, looking intently at Tseng, who sensed that the President was waiting for some sign of agreement with this fact. Tseng gave a slow nod, without breaking eye contact. Rufus did have a point. "The way I see it," Rufus said, clearing his throat, "is that there are two problems, which if allowed to get out of hand, might lead to a third."

"Sephiroth," Tseng thought aloud.

"Quite," Rufus nodded. "So that leaves us with one solution; to get rid of both Jenova and the Remnants. And you know how keen I am on the expression involving two birds and one stone."

"Why do I think I'm not going to like the sound of this?"

Rufus laughed. It was a hollow laugh, drained of anything resembling happiness. Tseng would almost have said it was fraught with worry, had Rufus not been pulling off his usual unaffected demeanour quite so well.

"You won't like it, Tseng. I don't very much, either, but it's the best I've come up with. And I've done a lot of thinking these past few days, believe me."

Rufus might not have been a well man but the fatigue visible in his face, in his movements, was down to more than just the Geostigma.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you that a conventional approach isn't going to work with these three," said Rufus. "But they do have a weakness – aside from their collective lack of intelligence – that we can take advantage of."

"Go on," Tseng urged. He was beginning to wish Rufus would just spit it out. It was unlike him to beat about the bush.

"They want to get their hands on Jenova so badly that they're not thinking things through. And that's something we can use. If I was to lure Kadaj to one of those incomplete new-builds in Edge by hinting that I knew the whereabouts of something he wants…" Rufus shrugged. "Well, how do you think he'd fare after falling 30 floors?"

"I'm not sure I follow," Tseng frowned. "You're not suggesting… that you lure him up to the top of a building and throw Jenova off in the hope that he follows?"

"To put it bluntly, yes," Rufus nodded. "But there's more to it than that."

"I should hope so." Tseng's eyes widened and he crossed one leg over the other. Just as his headache had been subsiding, Rufus had to go and crank it up a few notches.

"I know it's not ideal, and it's not as refined as our usual strategies… but it might be the only way. Remnant or not, I doubt he'll survive a fall from that height."

Rufus was completely serious, his mind quite clearly made up.

"I doubt you'd survive a fall from that height, either," Tseng replied dryly.

"Well, that's where you come in." Rufus sat forward in his chair. He held both hands out before him as if to squash some invisible object between his open palms, arms bent at his elbows; he was trying to reason. He might not have needed Tseng's permission as such but Rufus tended to feel better about things when his most trusted Turk was with him on a decision. "The thing is, I'm thinking of this as a backup plan only – we'll see how things go for now. But the chances are the three of them will be back in Edge before long, wreaking havoc again, and at that point we're going to have to do something. Sure, Cloud might get things in hand, but if he doesn't I'm not leaving things to chance."

"What if we destroyed Jenova now?" Tseng suggested. "That would at least stop the worst case scenario. It could even stop the Geostigma."

"Kadaj and his brothers would know," Rufus shook his head. "You know the link they share with Jenova – she 'speaks' to them, or some other such nonsense," he swatted a hand. "Except it isn't nonsense," he muttered to himself. "By keeping Jenova intact, we still have something to bargain with. If we lose that… well, we'll have no strings to pull them by."

Tseng nodded, reluctantly accepting that the President was right.

"So this plan," Tseng started, subconsciously massaging right temple. "We're going to have to close some holes before I even think about agreeing to it."

"That's what I was hoping you'd say." A wry smile came over Rufus' face. It was an expression that had once suited him so well, before he had been struck by the Geostigma. Now, however, Tseng found it somewhat disquieting; Rufus was still a formidable enough opponent off the field, and as the leader of Shinra, but settling matters personally at the moment was riskier than ever now that he was in poor health. Rufus might have been physically weakening but his resolve to fight those battles he deemed worthy enough of his attention appeared only to be gaining in strength. As admirable as that was, it certainly made life very tense for whoever was tasked with looking after the President's interests, and Tseng had been at the top of that list for a considerable amount of time.

_-x-_

For a peaceful moment, Elena wondered casually why she had fallen asleep with the light on. It was something she simply never did, not since she had been a child. Gradually, it dawned on her that something was wrong. The bed wasn't her own, her surroundings smelled foreign; plastic-like, with a strong element of disinfectant or some other such chemical. Her eyelids were heavy, the rest of her body worryingly unresponsive. Everything ached, her chest was sore and she felt feverishly warm. It was like being in some kind of frame, only she couldn't work out precisely where she was being restricted.

Elena recalled having woken up here before. A few hours ago, maybe? Or was it more than that? Someone – a woman whose voice was strikingly familiar, her identity somewhere on the fringes of Elena's memory – had been telling her that everything was going to be okay, that she was in a hospital in Healin. A stream of memories flooded her mind, as if someone had flicked a switch to activate some bizarre cinematic sequence: the Crater, the Remnants, Tseng. Pain, fear, and with it a weak, empty feeling coupled with panic as she had realised just how badly wounded she was. Images of other faces she didn't recognise followed. White ceiling tiles and blinding lights, voices talking over her frantically. That same woman's voice Elena knew she had heard on more than one occasion before the whole incident. It was like playing a scratched CD, where the music would get stuck in places and then repeat the same short section a few times before skipping on to a much later point in the song.

When she had woken up before, whenever that might have been, Elena remembered being unable to speak. Unable to see or move. Unable to even _think_. Things were clearer this time around, that much was certain. She felt more alive for a start, even if that wasn't an altogether good thing given how awful being alive felt just then. Her eyes wandered down from looking straight up at the ceiling, taking in her surroundings. It was difficult to see very much of interest, for she was lying almost flat on her back. The tops of the machines by her bed, various drips containing Odin knew what, the upper third of what looked like a long, internal window somewhere beyond the foot of her bed. She could hear voices somewhere in the same room but not in her immediate vicinity.

Something urged her to look at her own body, as if to check that everything was still there and intact. She made to sit up a little but simply didn't have the strength. Her arms were useless, resting by her sides, the right one supported on something soft. A glance in that direction confirmed it was in fact a pillow. It was probably a good thing she couldn't move too much, she thought ironically. She didn't need her eyes to tell her she was wired up like a Christmas tree, and moving would undoubtedly result in upsetting things.

Elena lay for a while in a state of relaxation that seemed rather unnatural, probably induced by whatever drugs she was on. Even uninvited recollections of the Remnants, of Yazoo in particular, failed to have any physical effect on her. Something in her might have flinched every time she saw those callous eyes but outwardly her body didn't respond. Elena wondered if she should feel grateful; it wouldn't last, and it probably wouldn't be long before the memories of that event had her shaking to the core. In an effort to stop thinking, or remembering, Elena found herself focussing on the steady beeping in the background. As monotonous as it was, it soothed her mind like a lullaby.

As the mental fog began to thin, Elena wondered what had happened to Tseng. He had been injured, too. She remembered him standing over her, the concern that had been etched into his usually stoic features. He had thought she was going to die. She wondered if she still could, given how nauseatingly unwell she felt. Her mind, rather irritatingly, kept returning to the day before they had gone on the mission to the Crater. More precisely, to the moment when Tseng had kissed her. And then to the day after, when he had told her it had meant nothing. That he wasn't interested in her, and never would be. It made Elena want to cry. But then Tseng had said all sorts of contradictory things after they had escaped the Remnants' clutches. Not only that, but he had gone back for her at the Crater when he could easily have escaped with Reno. He must have cared, Elena resolved. Enough to endanger his own life.

_'Competent Turks are hard to come by, but not completely irreplaceable.'_ The memory crushed the air from her lungs. When had Tseng said that? He certainly had because Elena could remember the way he had looked at her when he uttered the words. Cold. Detached. Was it really the case that he had only gone back for her to save himself the bother of finding and training a new Turk? Then it came to her; it was what he had told Kadaj back at the observation base, when the Remnant had asked why Tseng would go to his colleague's aid if he didn't care about her.

_'What makes you think I care what you do to her?'_ Elena swallowed, almost enjoying the burning soreness at the back of her throat. At least she could cite that as the reason why a tear was leaving a hot trail down her cheek. Some part of her mind tried to console her that he was probably putting on an act for the brothers' benefit, to minimise the chances of them ripping her apart just to get him to talk. As usual, though, her emotional side was winning this one, no matter how hard she tried to disregard it.

Didn't Tseng say that it had not been his intention to hurt her? If he didn't care for her as more than a colleague, if he didn't _trust_ her on a more personal level, then why had he told her about his reasons for leaving Wutai? That was something he never talked about. Or maybe it was, Elena thought bitterly, just not to _her_. He had been talking about loyalty when he had explained about Wutai, she recalled. Was he trying to tell her that she should be more loyal to the Turks? To put her personal feelings to one side? After all, she had made her feelings crystal clear to him when she had returned his kiss. Elena remembered being on the helicopter, summoning the nerve to ask him if he had meant it when he said he wasn't interested in her. What had his answer been? Elena couldn't remember him even giving her an answer. Actions apparently spoke louder than words, and his silence had said it all.

"Elena?"

It was that voice that Elena hadn't been able to place.

"It's Lara."

Of course it was. Elena swivelled her eyes to the right, seeing the doctor's face. She was frowning slightly, concerned.

"Are you in pain?" she asked. Elena wondered what might have given her that impression, since she felt drugged to the point of being virtually stoned. Something sank in the pit of her stomach, however, as she became aware once more of the wetness the tear had left on her face. _Pathetic_ , she thought, hearing Dionne say it in her mind.

"I'm… fine," Elena replied, surprised at the hoarse, feeble sound that was her own voice.

"I don't know about fine," Lara smiled, "but lucky, certainly." Her eyes switched to the open folder that was in her arms.

"I'm going to be okay?"

"I hope so," Lara nodded. "These last few days have been… well, you're still very ill but you're making progress."

"Few days?" Elena repeated. Had it really been as long as that? Lara nodded in confirmation.

"Would you like me to call someone for you?" she asked, closing the folder and slotting it back into place at the foot of the bed. "Your sister, maybe?"

Elena hesitated, seeing from Lara's face that she was completely serious.

"I wouldn't waste your time," Elena replied grimly. As nice as it would have been for her family to be there for her, now more than ever, Elena was not under any illusions that things would change because of this. No doubt her parents would say it served her right. But still, as much as she expected no different, she still had to admit that a part of her was childishly hoping they might have come to see her. Just to make sure she was all right, if nothing more.

"She was here a couple of days ago," Lara replied, though Elena noticed that she didn't seem at all surprised by the Turk's attitude towards her family. "When you were unconscious."

"Are you sure?" Elena frowned.

"Yes," Lara nodded. "I admit it wasn't very straightforward getting in touch with your family, but Dionne was here. "

Elena thought for a moment. "When you say not straightforward, you mean they wouldn't come." She figured she might as well have had her suspicions about her parents confirmed, rather than to risk doing them a disservice. Lara appeared reluctant to answer, her expression verging on the pained side of sympathetic. Rather than say anything, she simply blinked slowly and shook her head.

"It was just your sister," she said. Elena nodded, if only to acknowledge that she had understood correctly. She hated that it bothered her but there was no denying that it did. Elena had not fully come to terms with her parents disowning her, but she had got used to the situation like people get used to splinters; she was almost always aware of it, it hurt from time to time, she had tried for a long time to get it out without any success, and had consequentially adapted to living with it. To learn that she was effectively as good as dead to her parents, though, was more of a stake-through-the-heart-sized affair than a mere splinter. Especially now, when so much was weighing on her mind.

"It's okay, don't worry about calling Dionne just yet," Elena replied, managing a smile. It was difficult to sound coherent when what felt like a lump the size of a peach stone had formed in her throat. She couldn't face her sister just yet. Lara gave a nod, though from her face it was obvious that she could see through Elena's attempt at appearing unfazed.

"You could do with some support," the doctor said. "You've been through a lot."

"It's fine," Elena replied. She coughed, although unlike before it was less forceful and thankfully the dreaded taste of blood was absent.

"You need to rest. I'll be back to check on you later." As Lara began walking away, Elena spoke up.

"Um, how's Tseng?"

"All right," Lara nodded, turning back to Elena. "He discharged himself two days ago."

Elena absorbed the information but stopped herself from really thinking about it. Tseng was all right, and that was all she wanted to know about him for now. However, there was the situation with Jenova and the Remnants to consider. Dealing with it would be Rufus' priority. Elena reprimanded herself that she should have wondered about it before now, rather than being so wrapped up in her own feelings. No doubt Tseng would have put Rufus and the task of eliminating the threat posed by the brothers first. That was probably exactly what he had meant when he had brought up the subject of loyalty.

"And the President – the situation—" Elena began. Lara was standing directly beside her bed once more.

"Elena," the doctor shook her head, eyes looking down worriedly at the Turk. "It's all in hand, as far as I know. I mean it when I say you need to rest. You've been seriously hurt and you're still in intensive care. Work is the last thing that should be on your mind."

Elena nodded slightly. Lara was probably right.

The sound of a door opening somewhere across the room appeared to catch the doctor's attention, and Elena judged from the way her face softened that she recognised whoever it was that had entered the unit. "I'll see you later," she said, glancing briefly at Elena before setting off once more.

Elena released a sigh and closed her eyes, thinking that it would be no bad thing to give into the fatigue that had suddenly come over her. She had just about managed to relax when a familiar voice brought her back to reality with a start.

"There's no rush. Have it back to me when you're ready."

It was Tseng. Unmistakably. The smooth depth to his voice that was somehow just right, the eloquence that oozed from every syllable he spoke; it couldn't have been anybody else.

Lara said something in reply that Elena couldn't quite catch; they were too far away for her to overhear, especially against the backdrop of chatter from other people somewhere in their vicinity. Elena turned her head to the side just in time to see Lara leave through the doors, a dark coloured file in one hand. Her eyes watched the double doors close, rocking back and forth gently on their hinges before coming to rest. Footsteps were approaching her bed, and Elena swivelled her eyes to see Tseng approaching her.

"It's good to see you're awake," he said. The mottled grey-white ceiling tiles suddenly seemed hypnotising. Considering how much a part of her longed to see him, longed to feel his arms close around her as they had done back in the forest, Elena was finding it difficult to look at his face. She felt ridiculously small and exposed in front of him, and the thought of what he had witnessed happen to her made her want to cringe.

Elena took the plunge, switching her gaze from the ceiling to his face. A hesitant smile tugged at her lips when a suitable reply to his comment failed her. Elena would not have said that he was entirely at ease. Or perhaps it was just that, the last time she had seen him, he had been so uncharacteristically _open_. Not so much in the things he had said but in the way he had looked at her. Now, however, he was standing close enough to the bed that the dark fabric of his suit was almost brushing against the bed guard, yet he felt so very far away. He was exuding something at a subconscious level that was enough to tell her that his usual, impenetrable façade was back on duty.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Better than before," she said. His eyes rested sympathetically on her face for a moment, without looking her in the eye. "I'm glad you're okay," Elena found herself saying. Honesty was as good a place to start as any. "You are okay, right?"

"Yes," Tseng gave a nod. Something about his slight smile erred on the side of dismissive.

"You're back at work," she observed, feeling a little stupid for stating the obvious.

"Since yesterday," Tseng replied. "There's a lot to do."

Elena nodded understandingly. Of course there was.

"The situation with Kadaj—"

"Not your concern," Tseng shook his head. Elena swallowed as her chest tightened. No matter how unwell she might have been, she knew that pneumonia had nothing to do with it. "I um," Tseng cleared his throat. "I just came by to drop off some paperwork to Dr Stein, so I should be getting back."

"My file," Elena assumed. Tseng looked down at her, an intensity flaring in his eyes as they met hers.

"Yes," he said. "It's standard procedure."

"I know," she replied, averting her gaze. Elena was not quite sure what she had been expecting from him, but it wasn't quite this. It had been a very long time since she had given into the lures of wishful thinking but she thought that, having been through hell together, something might have changed since their conversation by the helicopter before leaving for the Crater. The bitter voice of rationality had warned her only a short time ago, when she had been thinking things through after waking up, that things with Tseng were not going to go the way she so wanted them to. Seeing him was always going to be awkward, and she had been a fool to even hope any different.

"You did well, Elena," he said, something with a little more heart than a stone statue creeping into his tone. "Rufus is grateful for your loyalty – as am I. I meant it when I thanked you for saving my life."

Elena looked at him once more. Why did she get the impression he was thanking her as the Turk leader, and not as anyone else? Tseng was just being polite, as always. There was a politeness in the way he did most things, Elena thought, including shooting people.

"We both wouldn't be here if it wasn't for each other," Elena blurted. She hoped she didn't look as upset as she felt.

"I know, Elena," he said calmly, already turning away to leave. There was something apologetic in the way he had said that that made the female Turk want to leap out of the bed, grab hold of his shoulders and shake him. But she wouldn't have dared. "I wish you a good recovery," he said, his back now to her.

Elena turned her head to face the other way, shedding a second tear as she heard him walk away. Why did that bitter voice of rationality always have to be right?

_-x-_


	12. Chapter 12

_-x-_

The next few days merged into an incoherent blur. Every time Elena woke she would look at the clock, just visible on the wall opposite her and along to the right. It was a useless exercise, though, since she had no idea what day it was and often whether it was the small hours of the morning or mid-afternoon. All she knew for certain was that she slept most of the time away and that, slowly, she was beginning to feel more human. A vague sense of boredom was nagging at her, reassuring her that she must have been on the mend; up until now, she had been too tired and far too sore to feel anything remotely within the regions of boredom. And she was still sore, in more ways than one.

Reno had dropped by yesterday, or at least it felt like yesterday. She wasn't entirely sure but if she had counted correctly, it had been more than twelve hours ago. He didn't stay long but it had been nice to see him all the same. A face that was more than familiar, someone who wasn't there to change dressings or to check everything was in order. Apparently things had gone quiet for the moment as far as the Remnants were concerned; the calm before the storm to paraphrase Reno's opinion. His theorising had involved shit and a fan. She remembered how reluctant he had been to mention the subject, and how sympathetically he looked at her when she had brought it up.

Reno's usual strategy was to joke and make light of the unpleasant side of the job but clearly even he felt that such an approach would have been inappropriate with Elena. It was almost maddening when all she wanted was for some kind of normality to return; for Reno to be the Reno who would quip that only a _rookie_ could end up as she had. She had to admit, however, that the very thought of Yazoo and his brothers made her pulse quicken uncomfortably and Reno was probably right to skirt round the subject in her presence. At least it would save her from embarrassing herself by having some kind of panic attack in front of him. Elena had had a few scrapes in the past, some nearer the knuckle than others but none as close as this one. To describe herself as shaken up would have been an understatement; rocked to the core was nearer the mark. The Remnants were in a whole league of their own compared to Shinra's usual adversaries and the sense of powerlessness she had felt at their hands lingered with her like some kind of curse. Yazoo's was a face that would stay with her for a very long time.

Tseng she had not seen since he had come to the hospital to give Lara the medical section of her file. Clearly he had better things to do. Her pride advised her, unconvincingly, that Tseng could go stuff himself. Elena wondered miserably if it was just sour grapes on her part; even after his last visit, she still wanted to see him.

A noise at the door to her room, to which she had been moved that morning, caught her attention. Someone was fumbling with the door handle. Before she had time to even think about it, Elena felt her body tense and she was tempted to reach for something – anything – that would serve as a weapon. It was a split second reaction, entirely involuntary. As rationality caught up with instinct it warned her that she was overreacting, that her subconscious was yet to fully calm down after the whole ordeal.

The door opened slowly and Dionne entered the room. Elena took a moment to make sure that it really was her sister, given that it had been well over a year since they had last seen one another in the flesh.

Physically, she hadn't changed much. Her hair was longer, her face had matured on some level – mostly in the eyes, Elena thought. There was a sincerity to them that hadn't been there before. Either that, or Elena simply hadn't noticed it.

"I wasn't sure you'd be awake," Dionne began. Her smile was all nerves; too quick, not radiating as far as her eyes. Elena wondered how it was that a smile could make someone look so sad. Dionne remained by the door, as if awaiting an invitation to progress any further. "I um, I came by yesterday but you were sleeping."

Her nervousness was almost tangible. This was not the Dionne Elena had last spoken to about a week ago, on the eve of her wedding; the woman who had flatly told her that she was not invited because their parents did not want her there. If it had pained her at all to say it, it certainly hadn't shown, leading Elena to think that Dionne did not want her there either but just didn't have the spine to say so.

And looking at her now, as different as she was, brought all those feelings right back. Elena became suddenly self-conscious, lying there like she was on display. She could see Dionne's eyes looking at her injuries more than at _her_. The tightness across the parts of her face that were bruised and scraped crescendoed into throbbing as her heart pounded uncomfortably in her chest, which in turn brought her awareness back to the dull ache in her shoulder.

"What…" Elena began, clearing her throat. She had no idea what to say. Dionne's unexpected arrival had caught her completely off-guard. "Why are you here?" She fixed her eyes on Dionne's, not even making an effort to appear composed or unaffected. There was no venom or accusation in her tone. She didn't have the energy for a start, and she hoped that honesty would breed honesty. Elena didn't care that the rawness was there in her eyes for all to see.

"Elena," Dionne shook her head, approaching the solitary chair beside the bed. She was looking at Elena with concern, just like everyone else had been doing lately. Something about the way she moved – quickly at first, and then hesitantly as she drew closer – made Elena think that Dionne had not come to make life difficult. "I wanted to see that you were all right."

Elena looked at her in disbelief.

"You mean you're going to go home and report to our parents that I'm still alive. I'm surprised they even want to know."

Dionne lowered herself into the chair, her head bowed, jaw locked.

"I'm here because I was – _am_ – worried about you," she said levelly.

"Right," Elena nodded, swallowing. She shifted herself up awkwardly in the bed using her left arm, trying to sit up a bit more so that Dionne was looking straight at her rather than down at her. Elena wanted to believe what she was hearing but the wounds were just that little bit too fresh. "So we'll just forget about our last conversation then, shall we?"

Dionne sucked her lips into her mouth, her glassy eyes looking up at the ceiling. Elena could not recall the last time she had seen Dionne anywhere near this emotional. Perhaps she really had been worried.

"I know 'sorry' isn't going to cut it and I don't blame you," Dionne nodded. "I've always taken their side against you… I should have gone with what I wanted – and I did want you there at the wedding. I just—" she shook hear head again. "I don't really have an excuse, Elena. It's… gods, I'll be the first to admit it's very fucking messed up that it's taken this to happen for me to do this, but I want things to change and this is the only way I know how to start. I want to try to make things right."

Elena sighed, annoyed at how shaky it was. She wanted to cynically caution her sister against being so earnest in case, through the strain, she hurt herself. Or broke something. But as much as she was not inclined to take Dionne seriously, through habit more than anything else, it was impossible to ignore the candour in what she said, and in the way she said it. Not to mention that these were things that Elena had wanted to hear Dionne say for years. Elena knew, however, that she too was not entirely blameless in all of this. She had made things difficult for Dionne at times, mostly unintentionally, sometimes very intentionally. She had been jealously competitive and resentful towards her sister, all of which had played a part in deepening the wedge between them. But Elena was not ready for that conversation yet.

"What about your honeymoon?" Elena asked. It was a change of subject.

"We've postponed it for a bit. I couldn't just go off without a care in the world when I found out you were in such a bad way. Besides, you could do with some support and I intend to be there for you."

"Since when have I—" Elena began. Her voice might have been weaker than normal but there was a deliberate strength to her tone.

"Fine – _I_ need to be there for you now," Dionne corrected herself. "So will you humour me, just this once?"

Elena almost managed a smile, a vague tightening of her lips as though she were unsure of whether she liked the taste of this or not. She hadn't said 'yes' but then she hadn't said 'no', either, which was an improvement of sorts on the death glares and snide rejoinders that were par for the course in their relationship. This was going to take time for both of them, that much was clear, but that Dionne was trying to make amends was a start.

Before anyone could say anything else, cordial or otherwise, the door opened. The look of surprise on Elena's face prompted Dionne to twist in her chair to see who it was.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," said Rufus, looking at Elena. He was leaning on his crutch in the doorway, supporting arm straight and wedged against the length of his torso to give the illusion that he was standing more or less upright. Elena wondered if the Geostigma was getting worse. "I can come back."

His good eye was deeply serious, his mouth an inanimate line. It was clear that he meant it, even if it was also clear that he would have preferred to speak to Elena now rather than later. This was more than a social call.

"No, no," Dionne said quickly, rising from her seat. Rufus' attention switched to her, his unbandaged eye narrowing contemplatively. "I should be going." She avoided looking at the President as she gathered her bag from the floor and put the thin leather strap over her shoulder. She looked at Elena once more, meeting her gaze this time. "I meant what I said, Elena."

Elena blinked in a gesture of agreement. "I know." Dionne dipped her head, eyes lingering on her sister's until she turned and made for the door.

"President Shinra," she acknowledged Rufus, pausing only a moment as she drew level with him.

"Ms Becker," Rufus gave a respectful nod, his gaze following her out of the room. "So," he said, closing the door after Dionne and moving somewhat labouredly towards Elena. "How are you feeling? Dr Stein tells me you're making progress."

"Not too bad," Elena replied, a polite smile hovering at her lips. _Just so long as I don't move, or breathe,_ she thought to herself. The way Rufus smiled dimly with understanding told her that he had heard that thought. "Thank you, sir."

Rufus rested his crutch against the wall and, carefully, lowered himself to the plastic chair, using both hands to position his afflicted right leg. One corner of his mouth twitched, his jaw set. He was in pain.

"Are you all right, sir?" Elena frowned. She could not sit forward to help him as she would have done ordinarily. Rufus nodded dismissively, taking a deep breath and running a meticulous hand through his hair, checking that all was in place.

"I believe it is I who should be thanking _you_ , Elena – for your loyalty," he said, smiling. For a moment, it came across as entirely genuine. One corner of his mouth then dropped a fraction, and something about that smile reminded Elena of a salesman; there was a catch to this somewhere. "On the subject of which," he continued, eyebrows raised as though an idea had just struck him when it was more likely that he had been brooding over it for some time. "There is something I need to ask of you."

Rufus did not elaborate straight away, instead taking a moment to run his eye over the Turk in front of him. Something in his face faltered as he did, only slightly, but it did not escape Elena's notice. Was he having second thoughts about whatever it was he had come to say?

"I want you to understand that this is by no means an order," he said, staring at what was visible of the bandaging covering her chest wound. Elena was tempted to pull the neck of her hospital gown higher but she didn't quite have the nerve to even move under the President's gaze. Besides, there was plenty more to look at that she couldn't cover up unless she hid under the blankets, which was not an altogether unappealing idea when Rufus was apparently unsettling himself, let alone her. "Rather, it's a request from a man who has little other choice and who needs someone he can trust."

"I'm listening," Elena encouraged him, sensing that he was waiting for a response of some sort. Wasn't this the sort of conversation he would normally be having with Tseng?

Rufus inhaled audibly and leant back in his chair, self-assuredness returning. It was never absent for very long.

"I would prefer to keep this just between ourselves," he said. Elena inwardly braced herself. This was going to be interesting at the very least.

_-x-_

A thick blanket of grey storm clouds lingered over Edge, as if they too were lying in wait for something to happen. The distance to the ground some seven floors below made Tseng feel vaguely nauseous but still he stared downwards from the rooftop with merciless conviction, past the tip of his shoe which was protruding an inch or two over the edge of the building's exposed metal framework. Like many of the constructions in Edge, this one was yet to reach completion. The basic structure was in place, though it was very much a shell of concrete and steel. A short distance behind Tseng were dormant air conditioning units, the pipe work for the ventilation system yet to be finished. The dark, brushed metal of the units' housing would work to his advantage, he thought; dressed in his dark Turk suit he would be difficult to detect against the camouflaging backdrop of pipes and metal, should Kadaj look down from the thirteenth floor of next building, where he was meeting with Rufus.

The building where Tseng had been positioned for the past quarter of an hour was part of a larger development of three, arranged in a cluster along one of the major roads in Edge. The tallest of the trio, where Rufus was with Kadaj, was centred between the other two and set back a little farther from the street, so that the silhouette of the complex was roughly triangular. Once complete, the site would form Shinra's new headquarters.

Tseng's attention was drawn upwards as a blue bolt of light shot across the sky, emanating from the thirteenth floor of the main building. It was a summon, directed too far into the distance to be aimed at the President. Edge city centre was clearly the intended target. Tseng thought of Reno and Rude but it was too late to warn them. Bahamut Sin was already descending from the clouds like the embodiment of damnation, leering at the city beneath it as though it were already victorious. Without intervention, it soon would be. As much as the summon literally was a bolt from the blue, Tseng had half been expecting Kadaj to do something… drastic. A show of force. A demonstration of power to the man who had once ruled the world and who was well on his way to doing so again. Rufus was proud enough not to feel too intimidated. Had that sentiment even had a place in Rufus' emotional vocabulary, other than as something he inflicted on other people, he would not be having such a cosy heart-to-heart with Kadaj now.

Tseng adjusted the grip on the weapon in his hand, ready to use it at less than a moment's notice. If he was lucky, that was all the time he would have. It was a harpoon gun of sorts, designed to release a safety net with a spearhead attached. The compact size of the weapon meant that the surface area of the net was limited to a long but narrow strip, and it was therefore imperative that the shooter's aim was nothing short of impeccable if he wanted the piece to fulfil its purpose. Of equal importance was the presence of a second operative, who would fire the gun's twin from the opposite direction. One net alone was seldom strong enough to catch a grown man falling from a reasonable height; the support of two nets that overlapped one another in the middle was far more reliable.

Bahamut's braying roar suddenly jumped an octave or two in pitch, sounding more like a strangled squeal than the threatening tones it had been bellowing for a considerable while. It was in pain. Tseng broke his attention from the thirteenth floor briefly to look towards the city centre. He smiled; so Cloud's friends had finally cajoled him into rediscovering his backbone. There was hope for the world yet.

Tseng faced into the development once more so that the tallest of the structures, where Rufus was meeting with Kadaj, was ahead of him and to the left. He looked across to the rooftop of the building opposite, roughly seventy-five metres away, narrowing his eyes to search for signs of his anonymous partner. He knew that the other agent ought to have been directly across from himself. But just as he was, the other operative would not be easy to spot against the city foliage of pipes and metal.

Why Rufus felt the need to be so secretive about the whole thing was beyond Tseng. As per the plan, Reno and Rude were occupied with distracting Yazoo and Loz, who had arrived in Edge a short while ago under the impression that Jenova was hidden in the Midgar Memorial, a few blocks away. That left Kadaj to meet Rufus alone on the thirteenth floor of the main building, having been lured there with a phone call from the President himself. When Tseng inquired about who would partner him on the mission, taking Elena's place, Rufus had nonchalantly replied that he would be taking care of it. Naturally, Tseng had his concerns about the matter; Rufus was gambling with his life on this mission and Tseng wanted assurances that the other shooter was capable. Trustworthy. And Rufus, for all his noble evolutions of conscience in the time since Meteor, was not a selfless martyr willing to die for the cause. Tseng was under no illusions about that, which made him suspicious of Rufus' casual attitude towards ensuring his own safety. Rufus had stipulated that the matter was not up for discussion, only serving to deepen the Turk's misgivings.

Tseng sighed in a subconscious and futile effort to relieve some of the tension in his chest. He wondered if he should have pressed Rufus harder to share the identity of the other operative. Had it been someone from Security, the President would surely have mentioned it. What reason was there not to? It struck him as a highly unprofessional, careless way of running things, especially for Rufus. But perhaps Tseng had just forgotten what it was like to be in his early twenties and still susceptible to the enticing pull of recklessness. Hell, Reno was nearing thirty and wasn't showing any signs of improvement on that score. It was at times like these that Tseng suddenly felt ancient at the age of thirty-six.

Admittedly there was a part of him that wished Elena were partnering him on this mission. Things would be a lot less worrisome if she were. He knew never to underestimate a good partner, one who could be relied upon to complete the job as well as have your back. Elena ticked both those boxes. But Elena wasn't here now, and Tseng wouldn't have it any other way. Elena was too indispensable to drag back to work before she was good and ready.

A long awaited movement on the opposite rooftop caught the Turk leader's attention. A figure was moving slowly across to the right, walking backwards in the direction of the street whilst looking up at the main building, no doubt keeping an eye on the thirteenth floor and for any signs of Rufus, or Kadaj, nearing the edge. Tseng found himself following the figure's line of sight briefly. Thus far, there was no sign of either. When he returned his focus to the opposite structure, the figure was standing in front of one of the air conditioning units. It was only at that point that he realised just who it was. Blond hair was prominent against the dark metal, the hairstyle a short bob cut, fluttering mildly in the breeze. Tseng would have recognised her anywhere. He did not want to believe what his every instinct was screeching at him but it was almost irrefutable now that she was walking out into the open, her feminine figure coming into view as she moved away from the obscurity of the air conditioning housing, gun visible in her left hand.

 _Elena._ _What on_ Gaia _was Rufus thinking?_

Well, truth be told, following Rufus' line of thought was not in the least bit challenging. He had needed someone he could trust, and someone who was a hundred times better than a simple good shot. Had she been fit, Tseng would have chosen Elena for the job above Reno or Rude in a heartbeat, purely on the grounds that she was a better marksman and they were better suited to dealing with Yazoo and Loz at close range. Tseng realised he was shaking his head. He was unaware that she had even been discharged from the hospital. Elena had had less than two weeks to recover, not to mention that the wound in her chest area directly compromised her effectiveness in this mission; according to Lara's report it would be a while before Elena could return to normal duties, for she had weeks of rehabilitation ahead of her before she would regain full use of her right arm. The bullet had damaged the muscles in her anterior shoulder.

How in the world was she going to fire a gun with such a notoriously jarring recoil, let alone pull it off with any accuracy? Tseng massaged his brow anxiously, trying to calm his mind enough stay focussed on the task at hand. Anger did not even begin to cover what the sight of Elena on the opposite rooftop stirred in him but he would have to save it for later. He had no other choice but to trust Elena, as Rufus had chosen to, no matter how much his concern for her wellbeing was doing its best to interfere.

It was fortunate that Tseng had kept the main building within his peripheral vision otherwise he would never have seen Rufus step up to the edge, the black box containing Jenova in one hand. His long white coat flapped in the wind, his body a pillar of strength compared to the fabric of his clothes. The President had never looked more solid.

Tseng took aim at the concrete level with the sixth floor of the main building, as planned. Elena, it appeared, had done the same, both hands curled around her gun with her arms out straight. They both looked up at Rufus, waiting.

Tseng had to stop himself from shooting reflexively as Rufus tossed the box into the air but remained standing as he was. The Turk knew, however, that it would not be long now.

A ball of fire shot from Kadaj's outstretched hand, narrowly missing Rufus who, with a calm sense of self-assuredness, tilted beyond his centre of balance and over the edge, his upper body leading him. His gun was drawn and he began discharging round after round, first at Kadaj and then, as the Remnant joined him in his freefall, at the box containing Jenova's head.

And still Tseng waited, his heart thudding ever louder in his head until it was the only thing he could hear. There was no room for error or mistiming. The net would only be strong enough for Rufus; if Kadaj became entangled, things would go downhill faster than terminal velocity.

Tseng fired first, Elena less than a second later. In the moment afterwards, Rufus' body plummeted into the net. Kadaj kept going, somehow catching up with the box and cradling it protectively in his arms before landing on the street below with an impossible grace that was about ninety-nine percent smugness, and one percent relief. Tseng closed his eyes. The first part of plan had failed, but the President was safe.

_-x-_

His trench coat was sitting lopsidedly on his shoulders and his hair was well and truly windswept but, for once, Rufus did not seem to care. He placed his hands on his hips and took a deep breath. His usually sickly pale cheeks were glowing healthily. It wouldn't last but, for a little while, Rufus was his former self. Tseng would almost have said he had found the whole thing something of a thrill. At the very least, it had clearly made him feel alive.

"Reno, Rude," said Rufus, still a little breathless. "It's time for Plan B. You know what to do."

"Yes, sir," Rude replied, already turning to leave for the helicopter. Reno wheezed, having just helped Rufus down from the safety net. Blood was still trailing from his nose after his fight with Yazoo and Loz.

"Got it," he grumbled. His reluctance brightened, however, as he appeared to remember just what Plan B entailed. "Let's see how these fuckers like a bit of dynamite stuffed up their rear ends."

Rufus ran a hand through his hair, fingers tentatively gliding over his bandaged forehead. He looked up eventually, his eyes locking onto Tseng's as if to demand why the Turk leader had been staring at him.

"Something the matter?" he asked, with a naivety that was just a little bit too forced.

"Yes," Tseng replied, tone on the clipped side of deferential. "Elena."

"Ah," Rufus nodded vaguely. _Ah_ could cover a multitude of sins, yet Tseng sensed a quiet guilt in Rufus' voice. "I didn't mention it to you before because I knew you wouldn't agree."

"And with good reason," Tseng replied.

"I know you don't approve, and you're probably quite right, but I needed someone I could trust to do the job and I trusted her above all the other options for this mission, which is why I _requested_ that she help me. I didn't order her to do anything."

Rufus' eyes became shifty as he spoke the last part of his sentence. Tseng knew Rufus knew what was coming but said it anyway.

"She's a loyal Turk who tries too hard. Of course she was going to say yes to your 'request'," Tseng said bluntly, his eyes narrowing into a you-know-as-well-as-I-do look.

Rufus pulled his lips into a wry smile. It was mildly heartening to see that it took him some effort to achieve.

"Your concern for your subordinate is very commendable, Tseng. I imagine Elena will be very touched."

Tseng stiffened, gut clenching uncomfortably.

"You seem to misunderstand, sir," he replied calmly. "My concern is more that you made a decision to put your life in the hands of a compromised operative. The consequences for you could have been fatal."

Rufus' gaze shifted suddenly to focus on some point behind Tseng. The Turk leader waited a few moments, the slow but utterly mortifying realisation creeping up on him that someone – and not just _anyone_ – was behind him. He pivoted smoothly to see Elena standing a short distance away. She was cradling her right elbow in her left hand, forearm bent across her body. The wounded expression on her face, however, likely had very little to do with any physical discomfort.

"Yes, well, her shot was dead on, Tseng, as evidenced by the fact that I'm still here. So it seems the risk paid off," Rufus muttered. "And as much as I appreciate your concern, let's not forget who _calls_ the shots around here, shall we?" Before Tseng could say a word, Rufus had shifted his focus to Elena and raised his voice to address her.

"Elena," he spoke up. "I'm most grateful for your assistance."

"You're welcome, sir," Elena gave a subdued nod, reluctantly tearing her eyes from Tseng.

Tseng swallowed and turned back to face Rufus. He could feel the prickling heat rising through his neck and into his face.

"Right, well," Rufus began, clearing his throat. "I suggest that you both take the other helicopter and assist Reno and Rude. With Bahamut taken care of and the Remnants heading out of town, I'm sure I'll be just fine without you for a while. If all goes to plan, which I'm sure it will, I'll see you all at the rendezvous point within the next hour."

_-x-_

It was on occasions such as these that Elena sincerely wished she was not so transparent. Putting to one side the fact that her rain-soaked blouse was leaving a little less to the imagination than was entirely dignified, it was emotional transparency that Elena was more preoccupied with. Her suit jacket at least took care of the blouse issue but the other matter was not so fortunate. Why could she not be one of those people who reacted with insulted arrogance, or outraged indignation? Or, better still, good old-fashioned indifference? Something along those lines would suit a Turk so much more than the kicked-puppy look that had come over her back in Edge earlier that day, when she had interrupted Tseng and Rufus' little tête-à-tête. If she could not reclaim control of her affections for him, it would at least be some consolation to deny Tseng the knowledge of it.

Dionne would probably have laughed at her. The old Dionne would have done, at any rate, and in Elena's experience people did not tend to undergo rapid personality changes in the space of a few years, if ever. Nevertheless, Elena wondered if it would be such a bad idea to give her sister a call.

As she closed the door to her apartment, it was carte blanche to give up on her attempts at keeping hold of her composure. She was bitterly sore, tired and still circling hopelessly around the matter of whether to strangle Tseng, or to just sit in a heap and wallow in self-pity. The former would probably be unsuccessful, yet the latter was so very unappealing. Elena leaned back against the front door and released a deep breath.

After taking off her boots in the hallway Elena shuffled into the kitchen, neglecting to turn on the light. Her apartment was still a bit musty after spending two weeks closed up but the smell of home was somewhat comforting. She opened the fridge.

Empty shelves stared back at her. Elena let her head fall against the open door in dismay. Since Lara had reluctantly discharged her from the hospital the previous morning, Elena hadn't made it as far as doing any shopping. In fact, all she did achieve yesterday was to reacquaint herself with her own bed. She pushed the fridge door closed with a sigh. There would probably be a tin of something unappetizing in one of the cupboards but she wasn't in the mood.

She moved into the bathroom and turned on the light. The mysterious healing rain that had cured Rufus, outwardly at least, of the Geostigma hadn't worked any miracles for her. The fading cuts and bruises on her face were still there, and the rest of her body certainly wasn't thanking her for the exertion. As she struggled to take her jacket off, her mind returned to Tseng. After leaving Rufus he had been nothing but professional, focussing on the job and speaking to her only when necessary as he piloted the helicopter. How could she be so stupidly in love with such a heartless creature? Professional distance she could tolerate from him – she had virtually come to _expect_ it from him, in fact – but blatant disregard towards her was new, and it was more or less on par with the violent jolt the harpoon gun's recoil had dealt her suffering shoulder. What in the world had happened to professional courtesy?

Her jacket discarded onto the floor, Elena loosened her tie and pulled it out of her collar before unbuttoning her blouse. She had forced herself to look at her still recovering body yesterday, as if to prove to herself that she could look at the healing wounds and marks on her skin without shuddering at the memories they conjured. The brothers were dead now but, unlike them, the memories would not die.

She had slept with the light on the previous night, her fingers curled around the grip of her gun that she had placed under the edge of her pillow. Elena took the weapon out of its holster, holding it loosely in her hand. She had become startlingly aware of her own vulnerability and could hardly bring herself to put the weapon down, even to get washed. Muttering something to herself about getting a grip, she holstered the gun and unfastened her belt, placing the whole lot firmly down on the counter beside the sink. The only demons in that apartment were her own. Sephiroth and the Remnants were gone.

After taking a shower, changing into some dry clothes and fumbling with the contraption-like sling Lara had insisted she wear, Elena headed into the living room and sat on the sofa. The clock on the wall read 8.30pm. She had not forgotten her earlier thoughts of calling Dionne. Perhaps now was as good a time as any to have that conversation she had been putting off. Her right arm immobilised by the sling, Elena was forced to get up to reach her phone that was on the small table at one end of the sofa.

"Hello?"

Elena hesitated, suddenly unsure of whether she really wanted to do this now.

"Dionne," she said, her uncertainty rendering her tone rather less friendly than she had intended.

"Elena," Dionne replied. There was a pause. "How are you?"

"Fine," Elena found herself blurting. 'Fine' might as well have been a universal contraction for ' _Not really, but I'd rather not discuss it just now._ ' Elena knew she wasn't fooling anyone, least of all herself. "Are you still in Edge?"

"I'm not far away," was the reply. Elena detected amenability in Dionne's voice. Perhaps something might go right today after all. She stopped herself before she could reach the end of that thought; things _had_ gone well today, for the most part, even if it didn't feel that way.

"Right," Elena nodded. She was standing by the window now, looking out over Edge. Her ghost-like reflection in the glass was staring into the distance. Elena felt like a shadow of her former self, and the image in the glass was an apt testament to that. What did she stand to lose by taking Dionne up on her offer? "I was thinking about what you said and… I thought we could talk." Another pause. "I'll humour you, if that's still all right?"

Dionne gave a close-lipped chuckle; an outflow of breath through her nose and a muted 'hmm'. "Yes, I'd like that," she said. Elena could hear her smiling.

_-x-_


	13. Chapter 13

It had just gone nine o'clock when there was a knock at the door. Elena forced herself to pause a moment, not wanting to give the impression that she had been consciously waiting for Dionne's arrival when it was precisely what she had been doing since putting the phone down. She checked herself briefly in the mirror, one hand on the door catch. Elena wondered if she ought to have put some makeup on. It might have made her look a little less drawn, and perhaps have gone some way to hide the soulless look in her eyes.

Screw it. Who would she be kidding, after all? Certainly not Dionne, and least of all herself. Women were _allowed_ to show their emotions in society's short-sighted eyes, especially to one another. It was entirely acceptable; _expected_ , even. Why, then, was she still not convinced?

Elena opened the door to see Dionne standing in the hallway, a bottle of wine in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other.

"I thought you might not have eaten." Dionne gestured to the contents of her hands. "Shopping and cooking isn't exactly top of your list right now, I'm guessing, so I got us a takeaway."

Elena smiled before she could stop herself. More than anything, she was touched by her sister's consideration. She couldn't remember the last time someone had done something thoughtful like that for her.

"I didn't realise they'd discharged you already," Dionne remarked as Elena closed the door after her.

"Yesterday," Elena gave a subdued nod. It was a strange feeling to have her sister standing in her hall. It was probably the most natural thing in the world to most people but, to Elena, it was as if she was laying herself bare by inviting Dionne into her personal space.

"You look like hell," Dionne said flatly. There was concern in her eyes and it was enough to dissuade Elena from making some kind of snide comeback.

"Yeah," Elena agreed. "I suppose I do."

She led the way into the kitchen, gesturing for Dionne to follow.

"I went to the Wutain takeaway round the corner," said Dionne, putting the paper bag down on the worktop. "You like Wutain, right?"

Elena paused, plates in her hand. Rather annoyingly, Tseng came to mind. When she looked up, she found Dionne looking right back at her. Elena wondered, just for a brief, absurd moment, whether that had been Dionne's precise intention: to make her think of Tseng. But what possible reason could she have had to do that?

Elena cleared her throat and put the plates down beside the bag. "That's great," she nodded. "It's… um, it's a good restaurant."

They relocated to the dining table at one end of the lounge with the food, bottle of wine and two glasses. Elena had noticed Dionne's eyes wandering around the apartment since her arrival, even if she was making an effort to be discreet. Elena would probably have done the same were the boot on the other foot. There wasn't much to infer from the neutral coloured carpet and white walls, she thought. Elena had had little time to do much with the place and it probably showed. There was only one personal touch in the room; a large watercolour of a rather sorrowful, wilting red rose hanging on the wall. The blotchy, mottled grey-white background was reminiscent of paper spoiled by water damage; it somehow conjured images of rain, or possibly even tears. Elena remembered finding it in the ruins of Midgar, unable to just leave it to decay along with everything else.

"It's beautiful – in a weird, depressing kind of way," Dionne said suddenly. Elena switched her gaze to her sister who was studying the picture, one elbow resting on the table as her index and middle fingers toyed absently with a few loose strands of her hair. For a moment, the clock lurched back ten years and they were teenagers, sitting at the dining table in their parents' house. Dionne had tended to fondle her hair when she was pondering something, a habit she had developed as a small child. As she had grown up, however, Elena noticed how she made a conscious effort to quell the urge when she was in more discerning company.

"Funny," Elena half smiled, eyes going out of focus as she remembered the day she had come across the painting. "Reno said more or less the same thing when I brought it back to the office after finding it in a heap of rubble."

Elena busied herself with the corkscrew, wedging the bottle of wine between her thighs to grip it. Although her right arm was uselessly immobilised in the sling, she managed to clasp the neck with her fingers to steady it as she began twisting the screw into the cork.

"Elena," Dionne said suddenly, reaching out to take the bottle from her sister. "Come on, let me do that."

"I'm not an invalid," Elena replied, a little more sharply than intended. Truth be told, she was getting nowhere with the corkscrew, other than twisting it awkwardly to no avail.

"Yes, you are," Dionne corrected her. "Albeit temporarily."

Elena might have considered passing the bottle of wine over before but now that Dionne was adopting that 'I'm-right-and-you-know-I'm-right' tone that was so irritatingly familiar, she became determined to open the bottle if it killed her.

"I'm not trying to belittle you," Dionne sighed apologetically.

Elena paused and sighed also. It was almost as if, over the years, she had programmed herself to take offence at just about anything that came out of her sister's mouth.

"I know," she conceded, nodding. "Sorry."

She unfurled the fingers of her right hand from around the glass and passed the bottle over, corkscrew still wedged into the cork at an angle. Dionne took the wine and, much to Elena's chagrin, had it open within a few seconds.

"Which brings me to what it is I need to say to you," Elena went on as Dionne poured her a glass.

"You don't have to say anything, Elena."

"Yes, I do," Elena nodded with conviction. "You're not the only one who needs to apologise. I… wasn't ready to do this before, back when you came to see me but I've been meaning to say that…" Elena picked up her glass and took a long sip. Why were those two words so notoriously difficult to pronounce? There was a certain vulnerability about apologising, she thought, and she had had her fill of vulnerability lately. She savoured the wine in her mouth to buy herself a few more seconds. "I'm sorry, too."

Dionne seemed to be about to say something, probably dismissive judging by the doleful look about her eyes, but Elena shook her head and went on. "Sorry for going out of my way to make your life difficult, for always thinking the worst of you, for… lots of things; for generally being a bit of a bitch."

"A _bit_ of a bitch?" Dionne repeated, eyebrows raised humorously. Before Elena could respond, or hit her, Dionne added: "Well, you learnt from the best." She was suddenly serious. The ambient light in the room accented her jaw line by casting her neck in shadow, and Elena could see the muscles working under her skin as her teeth clenched. "At the end of the day, I shouldn't have let things get so out of hand between us. I was older than you, and I had an easier time of it with Mum and Dad. I should have put my foot down about the wedding but—" she broke off, her thoughts interrupting her. Her eyes were glazed, transfixed by something in her mind's eye. "They were finally getting all they'd ever wanted and I couldn't," she shook her head, as if trying to resist the need to justify her decision. "I couldn't deny them that. I wasn't even going to tell you until after I was married but I called you that day because I felt so guilty that I wanted you to hate me for it."

"Dionne," Elena interjected softly. "You've been caught in the middle for years and… I suppose it was me who put you there."

Dionne nodded vaguely. "We both put me there," she said suddenly, "Our parents, too. Well, it's like I said to Tseng: just because I'll be there for them doesn't mean I won't be there for you."

"Tseng?" Elena repeated, almost choking on a mouthful of food. Had she missed something here?

"Yes," Dionne nodded. Her gaze settled deliberately on Elena's face, apparently not at all perturbed. "I bumped into him when I first came to see you. He was sitting at your bedside, in fact."

"I see." Elena averted her gaze. Despite that Dionne had previously worked under Tseng and they were thus not complete strangers, the idea of them discussing her as she lay unconscious was like some warped dream; one where her office appraisal was taking place between her boss and her estranged sister in a hospital, or some such scenario. And there she was thinking Tseng had come to see her just the once. Perhaps he did care marginally more than a single iota for her. 'Marginally' being the key word, she reiterated to herself. "You talked about me to him?"

"He… wasn't too pleased about the wedding," said Dionne. "Or, more specifically, about the fact that you weren't invited." She was speaking at a controlled, measured pace, possibly to allow herself the time to filter the words before they found their way past her lips. Elena wondered fleetingly if Dionne had something to hide but her suspicions were overshadowed by surprise: why would Tseng have brought up the wedding?

"He probably felt it interfered with the mission," Elena shrugged with her left shoulder, answering her own question. "You called me the day before the mission to the Crater. You know how it is; personal problems and the Turks don't really mix."

"Maybe," Dionne nodded slowly. It was the delayed, almost reluctant kind of nod that could really be interpreted as a mild shake of the head. "I think he cares about you."

"This is Tseng we're talking about," Elena replied abruptly. She could hear the pained strain in her own voice and made a conscious effort to sound more casual. She couldn't face her sister realising that she still harboured an unrequited fancy for the Turk leader, even if it was probably too late. "I'm still the rookie in his eyes, even after two years. You're just trying to be nice."

Dionne just looked at her for a few moments. There was something imploring about her eyes, and the thought went through Elena's mind that her sister was about to fiercely contradict her. She promptly dismissed the notion; if Dionne disagreed she usually had no qualms about saying so, and she was still sitting there wordlessly. Not only that but what was there, in fact, to contradict? Elena felt a pang of bitterness as her mind lingered on the subject of Tseng. She leaned back in her chair, wondering in despair if the all-consuming hole in her chest would ever mend. It was a sickeningly mournful feeling.

"You know me," Dionne said eventually, swirling her glass lightly and looking away. "I don't do being nice."

"You do," Elena replied. "When you think no one's looking."

Dionne smiled grudgingly. "Oh, take it from me; someone's always looking." There was a heaviness in her otherwise humorous tone. "So um," she cleared her throat, heralding a change of subject. "How are you holding up?"

"Not bad," Elena replied. "You know how it goes. Still a bit stiff and sore but I should be fine in a few weeks."

Dionne nodded vaguely, and Elena knew then that she had not given her sister the answer she had been seeking. "What about in yourself?" Dionne persisted.

"Fine," Elena replied quickly, eyes darting shiftily to the far side of the table. "Or thereabouts." Dionne continued to gaze at her unwaveringly. Elena was unsure whether to find it reassuring or disconcerting to realise that, despite everything, Dionne still knew her better than most.

"I'm a long way from being okay," she admitted, deciding that that was more than enough detail. "But I'm getting there." That Dionne returned her half smile said that she was satisfied with that response, more or less. "Now, when are you going to go on this honeymoon of yours? Not that I'm trying to get rid of you or anything – it's actually been quite nice having you here, but I won't be held responsible for any non-refundable deposits."

_-x-_

Travelling by taxi somehow took all the familiarity out of the journey. With her right arm still in a sling, driving her own, manual transmission car was out of the question. Like the lines and contours of her own body, Elena knew every dip, bend and pothole in the dirt track that ran along the length of the gorge up to Healin. Sitting in the back of someone else's car, though, it seemed like an altogether different experience.

Stepping out of the back of the taxi, she paused a moment to straighten her tie with her free hand. When she had first put on her suit two days previously, before going to assist Rufus in dealing with Kadaj in Edge, it had struck her how restrictive the collar seemed after only a few weeks of not wearing the clothes that she spent most of her time in. Anxiety, or apprehension, or some such feeling in those regions, was needling her into a state of disquiet. Somewhere between experiencing the sharp end of Tseng's charm and the Remnants' sinister attempts at a Reunion, Elena had fallen out of time with the routines that had once defined her very existence.

Elena arrived at the Healin Lodge early. As she had thought, Tseng's car was not yet in the car park, which, much to Elena's relief, ruled out that he was in the office. As difficult to read as the Wutain was, he was a creature of habit when it came to minor details such as punctuality, and Elena fully intended to use that to her advantage. The idea of walking into the office to an audience of Tseng, Reno and Rude sitting at their desks, gawping at her in united, startled silence as she crossed the space to her desk, was less than palatable. So the answer to that had been simple: arrive before they did.

Her desk was exactly as she had left it. Apparently she had forgotten her keys there before going to the Crater. That was what Reno said when he had come to see her in hospital, bringing them with him. She switched on her laptop, and was suddenly at a loss as to where to start. She would need briefing on the current assignments. There was, however, one thing that she could do; her report on the last mission she had undertaken. She resolved to come at it with detached clarity, to deny herself the chance to procrastinate and let the task grow into some mammoth whose shadow she would live in but could not face.

It was another twenty minutes before Elena heard footsteps outside, moving along the corridor towards the office. They were too light to be Rude's, and just a fraction too fast. Reno had a tendency to drag his feet every few steps or so, and it was still too early for him yet. The door opened and Tseng entered, his head dipped forward, eyes focussed on the screen of his PHS. He looked up briefly, probably to ensure that he wasn't about to walk into something, and stopped abruptly. His PHS was still poised in his hand as his eyes settled on the other Turk in the room.

"Elena," he said, his expression masking the surprise that his brusque halt in the middle of the office had quite clearly divulged.

"Sir," Elena nodded deferentially. As monosyllabic as their exchange was so far, the gaze they shared said almost too much. Tseng might have been doing his level best to behave like a stranger but his eyes locked with hers just as they had the day before they had left on that fated mission; as they had back in the Forbidden Forest and later in the safe house.

"What—" Tseng began, pausing a split second to moderate his tone, and to lower the hand clasping his PHS, "—are you doing here?"

"I've come back to work," she replied.

Tseng nodded slowly, eyes darting down to one side for a moment, mouth narrowing a fraction.

"It seems a little premature," he said, gesturing with a slight nod to Elena's shoulder. "I haven't authorised your return."

After what she had witnessed between him and Rufus in Edge, Elena hadn't been expecting a particularly warm welcome from Tseng. It didn't, however, change the fact that she would have liked one.

"No," came the smooth voice of Rufus Shinra from the doorway. He sounded marginally sympathetic. "You didn't, Tseng, you're quite right. But I did."

Tseng pivoted to see the President standing behind him, hands tucked into the pockets of his pressed white trousers. Elena knew she was staring at Rufus but couldn't help it, still overwhelmed by his miraculous recovery. There was not a blemish in sight on his fair skin. Not even the slightest trace.

"And you didn't think to inform me, sir?" Tseng raised an eyebrow.

Elena swallowed the guilt that rose in her throat. It had felt awkward at the time to go over Tseng's head when Rufus had called her yesterday evening, inquiring after her wellbeing following the previous day's mission in Edge. Prior to his phone call, Elena had been toying with the idea of calling Tseng to tell him she was ready to come back, her reluctance to get in touch with him overridden by a burning desire for some kind of normality to return. But then, rather conveniently, Rufus had phoned and she was unable to help but put the question to him.

"Well, I was actually coming by to tell you but… now you know," Rufus shrugged, deliberately ignoring the Turk leader's disgruntlement. "Welcome back, Elena," he added, glancing at the female Turk before turning on his heel and heading back in the direction of his office. Tseng sighed.

"No field assignments until the doctor signs you off as fit," he said, moving over to his desk without looking at Elena. "So it'll be just paperwork for the foreseeable."

Elena said nothing, even if she agreed that she wasn't yet ready to resume full duties.

"Understood?" he asked, glancing over at her.

"Yes."

Tseng settled in his chair and began sorting through the various trays of papers and documents on his desk. Elena asked herself what was worse: being at home and having her mind work its way obsessively back and forth between the situation with Tseng and memories of the Remnants, or being at work, with plenty to do but unable to concentrate because the change of scenery did absolutely nothing to remedy the misery of it all.

Elena shrunk a little in her chair, just enough so that the top of her laptop screen obscured Tseng's face up to the line of his brow. Her left hand resumed typing with tortuously slow progress. No doubt she looked ridiculous, and it would only be a matter of time before Tseng dropped his guillotine once more and declared her incapable of doing something as basic as paperwork. But he said nothing, and continued dutifully sorting through the files on his desk without once looking up.

Oh how she longed for the days back in Midgar when Tseng had his own office. Nostalgia could be such a funny thing.

_-x-_

"El-ena," came Reno's voice, drawing out each syllable of her name tunefully. Elena rolled her eyes and swivelled her chair to face him. He was sitting at his desk, a little-boy smile on his face. She knew before she even set eyes on him that he was wanting something.

"Yes, Reno?" she raised her eyebrows ignorantly.

"I was thinking," he said, twiddling his thumbs, fingers clasped. "As you're not on field assignments, maybe you could finish this little lot off for me?" He gestured to an untidy pile of files on his desk. "Me and Rude are off to Edge on business this afternoon – you know, all this with the anti-Shinra malarkey flaring up again after it came out that we had Jenova – and Rufus wants this done for um… yesterday."

Elena looked back at him expressionlessly. She knew she would end up doing it but there was no harm in making him ask nicely just once more.

"Elena is not your personal secretary, Reno," Tseng's monotone piped up from behind her. It was the first thing he had said to anyone all morning since Elena's unexpected arrival.

"The budget won't stretch to one of those," Reno sighed in exaggerated consternation. Tseng eyed him humourlessly. "Fine," he held up his hands. "I'll do it, I'll do it."

Elena faced her desk once more, unable to stop herself from sparing a glance at Tseng. As she did, the radio that had been droning pop-music in the background surged in volume. Clearly Reno had the remote. It became difficult to ignore the song that was playing, or the lyrics that were sung with earnest intent.

  


_'Why don't you teach your heart to feel?_  
 _And give your love, love,_  
 _Give your love, love,_  
 ___Give it all away._  
 ___Why don't you teach your heart to talk?_  
 ___And give your love, love,_  
 _Give your love, love,_  
 _Give me, give me what I need.'_

It took Elena a moment to realise that she was staring into Tseng's eyes, and he into hers.

Breaking the contact before it could become too awkward, Tseng cleared his throat. "Turn it down, Reno."

The volume faded.

"Sorry," Reno muttered. "I like that song." After a short pause, he continued: "I was thinking, boss, that we might take an early lunch?" His eyes darted indicatively to Rude.

Tseng checked his watch. Elena thought he looked mildly agitated, as if he were finding it an effort to really concentrate. "Why not," he breathed. "I'll join you." He rose from his chair and reached for his jacket.

"Elena?" Reno asked, eyebrows raised inquisitively.

"You go," Elena replied, twisting to face Reno. "I'm not really hungry."

"Suit yourself," Reno shrugged. "If you change your mind, we'll be at the usual place."

Elena nodded in acknowledgement, lips tensing into a brief smile that failed to come across as particularly jovial. As the three of them left, the atmosphere that had been lingering in the room went with them. Elena exhaled slowly and leaned back into a slouch. The radio was still mumbling away to itself in the background. She always remembered it being there but it was rarely switched on, usually only in Tseng's absence. No doubt Reno had noticed the stilted tension in the office. _Of course he has_ , she thought glumly. _You'd have to be wearing an atmospheric diving suit not to._

_-x-_

When Tseng returned, Elena was still at her desk. He had left Reno and Rude at the café, finishing their lunch. It was only a short walk from the Lodge, situated on the road out Healin. Tseng paused in the doorway, knowing that Elena hadn't yet noticed him. Reno's pile of files appeared somewhat reduced, with around half of them now sitting orderly on Elena's desk. They contained profiles of suspected anti-Shinra activists, and it had been Reno's task to go through them and make a shortlist of those who warranted further investigation.

Not wanting to be caught lingering in the doorway, by Elena or anyone else, Tseng stepped into the office and headed for his desk, pausing as he drew level with Elena.

"I thought I'd save you a trip," he said, carefully placing a brown paper bag down beside Elena's keyboard. He refrained from patronising her by mentioning how she ought to be eating properly, especially as she was still on the mend, even if he was thinking it.

"Thanks," she replied, looking up at him. She seemed surprised. "Um, how much do I owe you?"

Tseng sat down in his chair. He should have seen that coming but he simply hadn't thought about it that way; he had bought her a sandwich because he wanted to. Because the guilt-provoking idea had struck him that Elena was only staying behind in the office in order to avoid him, and it was therefore his fault that she would end up either going out alone at some point later, or missing out on a lunch break altogether.

"You don't," he said.

Elena stiffened, perplexed. Tseng wondered if his reply had sounded just a little too authoritative.

"It's on me, Elena," he said, meeting her gaze across their desks.

"Thanks," she replied, smiling a smile that saddened him. The light had gone from her eyes, and it was more than just fatigue. It wasn't so long ago that a smile had seemed so effortless to her. Now, however, it came across as laborious; as something she had to force into place. Not only that but she was so _quiet_. Oh how he longed for those days when he would reprimand her for talking too much, distracting him, and in particular Reno, from doing any work. It was no wonder, really, considering all she had suffered. Tseng didn't doubt that her mind was still drawn back to the Crater and the hell that had happened there by some uncanny gravitational pull, just as his was every time he was lapse to make a conscious effort not to think about it.

"It will get better, you know," he spoke up suddenly. Elena looked over at him, the seriousness of her expression telling him that she knew exactly what he was referring to. "Sephiroth, the Remnants… they get under your skin; make you feel weak, even after they're gone."

She studied his eyes with renewed interest, as if to say, _So you feel it, too._ Tseng might usually have been satisfied to learn that his professional façade was doing just as it was supposed to but, looking at Elena just then, it occurred to him that he was making her feel weak and isolated in the grim aftermath of that fateful mission; he was making her feel that, of the two of them, she was the one struggling to come to terms with it all. Shame clawed its way up his neck, bringing a lump into his throat. He had been too wrapped up in maintaining his professional distance, overly concerned with playing the role of the detached and pragmatic Turk Director to a T.

"To be honest, I—" Elena began, gaze dropping. "I didn't expect to ever wake up." She busied her able hand with something on her desk, still avoiding his gaze. Her head bowed forward, blond hair moving to obscure her face. "I was certain Yazoo was going to kill me, and I know he could have done in a heartbeat if he'd wanted to. And now… it's like one of those dreams where everything's so normal that I'm sure there's something really wrong." Elena leaned back, turning her head to one side and directing her focus firmly into the corner. "It feels like any confidence I had in my ability to do this job has just… gone. Just like that." Her lips tensed into a smile that seemed to be an effort not to cry more than anything else.

"Look at me, Elena," Tseng said levelly. Her eyes darted briefly to him, only to return regretfully to the corner. Tseng recognised her expression as the one that came over her whenever she felt she had said too much. "There is no doubt in my mind about your capabilities as a Turk. If anything, that mission proved it." He stood, taking a few steps towards her desk.

"But," Elena frowned, eyes finding their way back to him once more, watching him as he approached her. "I got the impression you thought that I wasn't loyal enough to Shinra – to the Turks." As he stopped beside her chair, she looked away once more. "That's why you said about your past in Wutai – all that about loyalty – isn't it?"

Tseng started as it dawned on him what she was talking about, and how she had misinterpreted him. He cast his mind back to that night in the forest, feeling the coldness of the ground through his trousers, and the dwindling warmth from Elena's body pressed back against his. He hadn't had the chance to finish what he was saying, he recalled. In hindsight, part of him had viewed Vincent's interruption as a blessing in disguise, preventing him from opening up to her about how he really felt and thus saving him a lot of awkwardness. Never had he once thought that Elena would take it as she had.

His fingers gripped the back of her chair, swivelling it round so that she was facing him. Mindful to avoid touching the fading bruises on her face, Tseng lifted her chin gently with his index finger, making her look at him. His inner voice of caution, which had been growing steadily more forceful since the start of their conversation, was now frantically flapping that if he wasn't careful, he would end up divulging more – or _doing_ more – than was good for his professional position.

"I wasn't talking about you," he said softly. He lowered his hand from her chin. "I was talking about me – about how it was that I came to join the Turks, why my loyalty lies with Shinra. You used to wonder how a Wutain ended up working for Shinra, in a position such as mine. I didn't mean for you to think I was getting at you."

Elena's lips parted, eyes moving rapidly from side to side, suggesting a number of thoughts were going through her mind.

Before she could say anything, the sound of voices interrupted the silence. Reno was first through the door, Rude right behind him. Tseng straightened, pivoting slightly to look at Reno. Even if he had been aware of the fact that they were due to return, their appearance just at that moment took him by surprise. But, true to form, Tseng did not appear remotely startled by their arrival in the office.

"When you've finished with those files, Elena, you can pass them onto the President directly. He would like to know who he's dealing with and the possible nature of any threat to the company as soon as possible."

And with that he was gone from beside her, moving unhurriedly back towards his desk. With him went the brief flash emotion that Elena knew she had seen in him, vanished without a trace.

"And Reno," he said, clearing his throat.

"Yes, boss?" Reno had been about to sit down behind his desk.

"The other half are to be finished – by you – by the end of the day, mission or no mission this afternoon."

"Right," Reno gave a nod.

Silence fell once more in the office. Elena sighed quietly to herself. It was business as usual once more.

_-x-_

It was just under a week later that the phone call came. Elena was alone in the Lodge; Reno and Rude were in the Junon area, following up a lead relating to the growing anti-Shinra activity, and Tseng was escorting the President to a meeting with an oil firm in Edge. When Tseng had told her she was under no circumstances to partake in field assignments, it seemed he had certainly meant it. Trips to the photocopier next door, the bathroom down the corridor, and the café a short walk away were about as exciting as Elena's work-related excursions got.

"Yes, this is Elena," she replied to the security officer on the other end of the phone.

"This is Captain Ennis." He spoke quickly, as though he were just about managing to contain his sense of urgency. "I'm calling from Mako Reactor EH1, just outside Healin." There was a pause, and Elena could tell that he was working up to something that was unlikely to be good news. "Ma'am, according to the new protocol we're to contact the Turks directly in the event of any suspicious incident at the reactor."

Elena found herself nodding. It was only in the last week that Rufus had stepped up security at the two remaining Mako reactors on the Eastern Continent, reasoning that they were likely to be prime targets for the anti-Shinra group that had surfaced in recent months. Shinra was switching over to using oil as a primary power source but it was a lengthy process and the only viable option was to phase out Mako reactors gradually, unless large sections of the world were to be left without energy. The Mako reactor near Junon would be closing in a few months and the one between Edge and Healin was expected to remain active for around another year.

"I take it you have something to report?" Elena assumed.

"Yes, ma'am. Two intruders were spotted on site a short while ago, and we haven't managed to apprehend them yet."

"Right. We need them alive, if possible, but be aware that their aim is probably to put the reactor out of action, if not worse – you have permission to do whatever's necessary to protect yourselves and the reactor. Do they fit any of the descriptions that were sent out to you about a week ago?"

"We didn't get a good look at them. It looks like they cut their way in through the perimeter fence, and were seen entering through the back of the reactor. We lost them after that – there are only four of us posted here."

Before Meteor, there would have been at least twice, if not three times that number of security personnel employed to safeguard Shinra's reactors.

"Just secure the site as best you can and someone will be out to you right away."

Elena put the phone down, poised to leap from her chair, grab the keys to the company car and set off. She was halfway to standing when reality caught up with her. Orders were orders and hers were to stay put. Elena lowered herself back into her chair, perching tensely on the edge and biting pensively on the corner of her lower lip. She would have to call Tseng.

His PHS rang once before going to voicemail. No doubt he was still in the meeting with Rufus. Elena thought of Reno and Rude but they were hours away at the very least, and time was of the essence. The Turks had been chasing the shadows of the activist group for months, always coming up short no matter how vigilantly they pursued even the smallest titbit of information. This was not an opportunity to be squandered, and were this any other time Elena knew with certainty that Rufus, Tseng, Reno, and probably Rude as well, would be queuing up to have her head on a platter for letting a breakthrough such as this slip through her fingers.

Elena rose once more from her chair, left hand absently patting her side to check her gun was in its holster even though she knew it would be there. She unlocked the filing cabinet in the corner behind Rude's desk, selecting the car keys from the bottom drawer. Nudging it closed with the toe of her boot, she took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. There was no time to dillydally around the matter of whether she was up to the task or not, physically or mentally, so Elena resolved not to even start.

On her way out of the Lodge, she left a voicemail message for Tseng, explaining the situation. She unlocked the black saloon car and sat in the driving seat. Pulling the door closed, it occurred to her that her sling would prevent her from using the gear stick. Even if that was the precise reason she had been taking a taxi to work for the past week, she had been so intent on getting on with the job so as not be distracted by self-doubt that she had completely forgotten about her shoulder. Over the past week or so, Elena had gradually grown accustomed to living life with the use of just one arm; from making coffee to getting dressed, and all things in between.

Sighing, Elena pressed her head back against the leather headrest. Was this to be taken as a sign that she wasn't meant to go? Or perhaps it was more a test of her resolve.

"Pull yourself together, Elena," she muttered reproachfully, reaching across her torso with her left hand to undo the first of the straps immobilising her right arm. Having gotten the whole process down to a fine art, she had the sling off in less than a minute, straightened her blazer and her hair, both of which had been upset during the contortionist routine, and started the engine. Admittedly the joint was more than a bit stiff as she put the car into reverse but it was functional enough if she gritted her teeth. As she set off down the dirt track, Elena imagined there would be a fair amount of teeth-gritting to be done before the day was out.

_-x-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Lyrics taken from 'Love Love', written by Take That, © Polydor 2011._


	14. Chapter 14

There was something about the sight of the Mako reactor that invoked a guilty sense of nostalgia, Elena thought as she pulled up at the security barrier. It was the embodiment of Shinra's golden years. Planted amongst the chalk hills not far outside Healin, the reactor was just far enough off the beaten track to avoid attracting too much attention. Since Meteor had nearly destroyed the Planet two years ago, the subject of Mako, and anything pertaining to it – such as reactors and Materia – had become society's elephant in the room. Everyone had been quick to jump on the bandwagon of self-righteousness, with the general opinion being that Mako was not something to be treated as a dispensable commodity, and how it had been clear all along that its misuse would lead to disaster. That hadn't stopped them from using the energy it had provided when it had been the planet's main power source, and it wasn't stopping them from using Mako now until oil-based power was in place. Everyone knew that Mako was still being used to fill the gap, yet no one liked to mention it. No doubt it suited Rufus down to the ground that this particular reactor had been built in an out-of-the-way location where it could just be 'forgotten' about, Elena mused, a flash of humour glinting in her eyes as she looked up at the rain-streaked, sheet-metal exterior of the unit. 'Out of sight, out of mind' was one of his favourite mottos when it came to maintaining public opinion.

Clearly, though, it was not as out of mind as Rufus wanted to believe.

"They're still inside," Captain Ennis explained as he and Elena briskly approached the steps up to the front entrance. "I've got all security personnel covering both exits; two at the back, one here at the front." He nodded to the officer standing guard at the top of the stairs.

"What about the maintenance staff?" Elena asked.

"They all – bar one – left about an hour and a half ago, and should be returning for their evening shift at five."

"Who stayed?"

"One of the junior technicians. He said he was finishing off a repair that couldn't wait."

Elena gave a thoughtful nod, already entertaining the possibility that the technician had something to do with the incident. Equally possible, however, was that he was in very real danger of coming to any varying degree of harm at the hands of the intruders, depending on what their intentions were. Elena would have to keep an open mind.

"Have you made contact with him?"

"I tried radioing in a few times but," Ennis shrugged, "nothing."

"Is there anything I should know about this technician?" she inquired, her eyes leaving no room for any doubt as to what she was getting at.

Ennis came to an abrupt halt at the foot of the stairs.

"You think he's involved, ma'am?"

Elena turned to face him, having continued on a few steps after the Captain had stopped.

"It's possible," she replied, looking down at Ennis. He was a little young for a Captain, she thought, and had that freshly-promoted look about him; his red Captain's uniform was pristinely starched, likely not long out of its plastic packaging, and his pale eyes were full of eagerness to please. "What do you know about him?"

"Not a great deal," Ennis shrugged. "He's been here since before I was and he's never given me any reason to think he's up to something."

"Has he ever stayed late before?"

Ennis thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No. But others have, from time to time."

"Well, we'll just have to keep our wits about us."

"Ma'am," Ennis spoke up as Elena was about to continue up the stairs. "Um, is there any more backup on the way?"

Elena felt something sink in her core. Did he not think she was up to the job? She berated herself then that she should have been more put out that he dare question her in that way. Even as a rookie, she would have reacted with indignation first and self-doubt second. _Now is not the time for a crisis of confidence._

"I put a call out on my way over," she replied, presenting her back to him as she continued her ascent up the stairs. She could hear him following and it occurred to her that he was probably just being realistic; there were at least two intruders, possibly three if the technician was involved, and only Ennis and herself to apprehend them. Of course he would want to know if backup was on the way. "A squadron of security personnel are on their way from Edge. They should be here within the next quarter of an hour or so, but we can't afford to waste any more time."

"No, ma'am," he agreed, quickening his pace a little so that he drew level with her once more.

Elena paused at the entrance. "We'll stick together," she said to Ennis, acknowledging the guard at the door with a brief dip of her head. He shouldered his machine gun and opened the door with an obliging nod. "If these intruders are who I think they are, then there's only once place they'll be interested in."

"The central control room?"

"Right," Elena nodded.

"We'll have to go down a floor to get to it," Ennis informed her as they entered the reactor. "This level is mainly just piping and ventilation shafts."

"A perfect hiding place," Elena muttered, drawing her gun out of its holster as her eyes roved around the vestibule and came to settle on the large doorway to the main body of the reactor. "Be on your guard."

Once they were beyond the seclusion of the entrance, Elena and the Captain made their way slowly but surely across the first bridge, heading towards the lift at the centre of the building. Elena had the sense of being rather exposed, given the open nature of the reactor; it was possible to see right down past the lower floor to the liquid Mako hundreds of feet below, and even the flooring of the bridge was comprised of sheets of metal grating, enabling anyone below to see, if not hear, anyone above. Ennis apparently felt it too, judging by the way he was starting to hunch defensively over his readied machine gun. As they neared the middle of the suspended section, it was possible to see more of the floor below and Elena cast her gaze downwards, on the lookout for any signs of movement amongst the pipes, tanks and cisterns. Even with the dim lighting and bluish hue of Mako from further below combined, it was difficult to see very much other than non-descript shapes, none of which were showing any signs of being alive.

They reached the lift without incident.

"Where was the technician working?" Elena asked suddenly, turning to Ennis standing a little behind her as they waited for the lift to arrive.

"The next floor down, I think," he replied. "Something to do with a faulty valve."

When they reached the lower level, Elena led the way forward once more. After proceeding through the open area where the lift was located, they entered a more sheltered corridor, encompassed by pipes on every side but the floor. Elena took the first bend with caution, growing ever more anxious as they neared the central control room. The constant clanging of expanding and contracting metal as the Mako was heated and cooled during the refining process did little to help the situation, making both her and Ennis jump on more than once occasion. Gun outstretched, Elena rounded the corner to see the unmistakeable form of a body lying to one side of the corridor, just before a doorway that led out onto another open bridge section.

Elena approached the still form without a word, lowering her weapon as she crouched down and placed two fingers to the man's jugular. The amount of blood pooling around him did not look very promising.

"That's the tech," Ennis spoke from behind her. His voice was barely a hoarse whisper, and Elena heard it catch in his throat. As the Captain turned away, one forearm pressed over the lower half of his mouth as he tried not to wretch, his foot knocked against the technician's open toolbox. Elena swallowed, practised enough to stifle the queasiness that rose in her own stomach as her fingertips made contact with the cool, rubbery texture of skin that was no longer living.

The technician was lying face down, a tool that looked to be some variation of a wrench still held loosely in one outstretched hand. The sleeves of his dark blue, Shinra issue overalls were rolled up, revealing an elaborate tapestry of tattoos. Whoever had killed him had probably taken him by surprise, Elena thought to herself as her eyes studied the obvious knife wounds in the man's back. He hadn't stood a chance.

"Let's keep moving," Elena muttered, standing. There was little doubt in her mind now that the intruders' intentions were as serious as they were deadly.

Ennis gave a nod, taking a deep breath as he collected himself. Taking care to tread lightly, Elena moved out onto the bridge, pausing briefly to survey her surroundings. Straight ahead, at the other end of the bridge, was a slightly wider section that seemed to serve as a foyer to another more enclosed corridor. The bridge above, as far as Elena could tell, was as deserted as it had been when she and Ennis had crossed it only minutes earlier.

They were nearing the middle of the bridge when Ennis elicited a muffled shriek, prompting Elena to whip round on the spot. A darkly clad, hooded figure, taller and bulkier than Ennis' athletic build, had one gloved hand clamped over the Captain's mouth, whilst the other wielding a knife battled with Ennis' flailing arms. Evidently the assailant's intention had been to eliminate Ennis as quickly and quietly as possible but had failed, and miserably so.

Elena had to stop herself from shooting there and then, firstly for fear of hitting Ennis, and secondly because she needed the attacker alive if she was going to attempt getting any information out of him. Ennis drove the butt of his machine gun fiercely backwards. A winded _uff_ followed the thud of the weapon pounding into the figure's gut, putting him off his stroke. Ennis lurched forward, seizing his chance, but the intruder moved with him, raising the knife into a striking pose.

When her finger pulled the trigger, Elena had that prickly, shrinking feeling she so was so often met with when she acted first and thought later. Instinct had overridden the frantic calculations fizzing away in her mind as she tried to weigh up her options and their consequences. The shot echoed loudly throughout the reactor, reverberating off the outermost walls. Sparks flew from the railing close to Ennis' attacker as the bullet glanced off the metal, and Elena didn't hesitate to fire again.

It was an almost tentative attempt, with her shoulders tense and a restless frown on her face, lips drawn back to reveal gritted teeth. Blood sprayed from the torn fabric of the intruder's right sleeve and he made a noise that sounded like an unhappy compromise between anger and pain. The bullet had probably taken a sizeable chunk out of his dominant arm as it had grazed him.

Ennis freed himself in that moment and turned, struggling to level his gun whilst at such close proximity to his attacker. He took a step backwards to give himself more room to manoeuvre when the figure, who was now bent forward with his left hand clasped over the wound in his arm, propelled himself towards Ennis, ducking his head out of the way of the barrel of the machine gun, and drove his weapon with full force into the Captain's thigh.

Ennis shrieked and dropped to the ground backwards, the knife still buried in his flesh to the hilt. In his efforts to deal with Ennis, the intruder had taken his eye of Elena, who was upon him in less than a second, kicking him hard across the face before he had the chance to rip the blade from Ennis' thigh. He flew to one side, body slamming into the railings. Elena levelled her gun at him threateningly, reaching out with her other hand to pull back his hood and reveal his identity when, out of nowhere, something hard and fast collided with her ankle bone, causing her leg to buckle and she stumbled; he had kicked her. As she was forced to lower her gun hand to stop herself from falling completely, Elena scolded herself that the intruder must have realised her intentions of keeping him alive and was now going to use this knowledge to his advantage.

Before she could train her gun on him once more, the figure had her by the collar and shoved her back against the railings, pushing until her feet left the floor and she was entirely at his mercy. She forced herself not to panic, regardless of how hard and fast her heart was thudding.

_Think, Elena._

"The Turks, huh?" he grunted, breathing heavily.

"What of it?" Elena replied voicelessly, chest heaving as much as his was. If she could just distract him enough so that his attention deviated from her gun hand...

"I'm surprised there aren't more of you. Or does this just go to show how little Rufus cares about the price we've all had to pay for his greed?"

Elena took her chance, seeing by his face and hearing from his tone that he was losing focus on her as he delved into self-justification. Equally helpful was the fact that most opponents never anticipated a blow from her left hand. Hard and fast, she drove the butt of her weapon into her assailant's temple and threw her weight forward so as to avoid overbalancing backwards and over the railing. He eased off a little, one hand flying up to nurse his head. Not taking any chances, Elena lashed out at him again before he could right himself. He stumbled backwards, so much so that he fell against the opposite railings. Being only waist-high, his upper body continued even after his lower back made contact with the barrier. He was too dazed to stop himself in time and, almost slowly, tipped backwards beyond his centre of gravity.

Elena darted forward, throwing herself to the floor as she dropped her gun and reached out with both hands, fingers closing around the fabric of the intruder's hoodie. She looked down at him, surprised at how calm he seemed when he knew as well as she did that he was facing a certain death; he was probably twice Elena's weight and was too far gone to be able to reach the ledge of the bridge with his own hands.

They stared at each other.

"Grab on to me," she said, her voice infirm from the strain and exertion. The material of his top was slipping from her hands.

He hung there, looking back at her. Elena wondered if he thought that this was the lesser of two evils; given the choice between dying here or having information tortured out of him by Shinra, Elena knew which she would have chosen. The latter was no way to go, and that she knew from bitter experience.

It had never occurred to her before that she had more in common with the Remnants than she previously realised. Oh, the irony. _But perhaps that's life_ , she thought. _You pick a cause and side with it no matter what. The Remnants, the Turks, this latest anti-Shinra group – we're all the damn same._

Seconds later he was disappearing into the Mako aura, a distant, indiscernible mass, rapidly shrinking away from her. Elena let her forehead press against the cool metal of the floor for a few moments as she caught her breath. Perhaps if she had had more backup – and waited for it – this would never have happened.

Her thoughts turned quickly to Ennis and Elena pushed herself up. The Captain was sitting on the floor, trying to move himself so that he could lean back against the railings, one hand around the knife handle jutting from his thigh. As Elena neared him, she saw that the surrounding fabric of his trouser leg was sodden. On the plus side, it wasn't as sodden as she feared it might have been. At a guess the blade had missed his artery, and its presence was now hindering his blood loss.

"Captain," Elena said, bending down to him.

"I'm fine," he replied quickly, his voice taught with obvious pain. "But I don't think... I don't-"

"It's okay," Elena reassured him. She gripped him under his arm and helped him shift himself backwards so that he could lean on the railings for support, sitting with both legs outstretched. "Try not to move too much," she said. "Do you have a first aid kit amongst all that?" She nodded to the various pouches attached to his belt.

Ennis nodded. "A small one."

Elena rummaged through the kit until she found something suitable: a large piece of gauze and a roll of bandage. "You'll have to wait here whilst I go on ahead," she told him as she gathered the gauze around the base of the knife handle, where the blade protruded from Ennis' thigh. "All right?"

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded, eyes darting back and forth between Elena's face and her hands, which were busy securing the gauze against the wound with the bandage.

"Radio the officers outside and let them know your position. And ask them where the backup's got to," she added. "They should be here by now."

Ennis nodded again. He was more than a little pale, she thought as she tied off the bandage. It was probably due more to the shock than to his injury.

Once she was finished, she picked up the Captain's machine gun and placed it in his lap, gesturing for him to take hold of it. "Don't hesitate. And don't touch the knife."

"I won't," he replied.

Elena gave a brief nod and rose, checking her weapon was in order.

"Be careful, ma'am."

Elena progressed quickly to the other side of the bridge. Any hopes she had had of being discreet were well and truly dashed after the altercation on the bridge. She would have to go under the assumption that the other intruder not only knew she was coming, but that he was also actively lying in wait somewhere. Passing into the adjoining corridor, Elena paused for a few seconds and listened. There was nothing to hear, other than the low, background hum of the reactor's machinery.

Her main fear was that she would not be able to take the other intruder alive, if her experience with the first was anything to go by. Shooting someone was all fine and well for a good shot such as herself, but subduing them took a certain kind of finesse that was more Rude's department.

At the end of the short passageway was an antechamber of sorts, with what looked to be a control unit in the middle. Beyond that was the central control room, the door to which was ajar. Through the large windows embedded into the nearside wall of the control room Elena could see little; other than the intermittent blinking of various LED lights on the controls within, the room was in darkness. She hesitated for a good minute at the end of the corridor, her back pressed to the wall just before the doorway into the antechamber. There was no sign of anyone, or anything untoward.

Moving with the utmost care, gun held in both hands, Elena edged towards the control unit in the antechamber. If necessary, it would be substantial enough to provide her with reasonable cover. After making quick work of her immediate surroundings, her attention was drawn to the central control room; the antechamber was clear, and there were no possible hiding places as far as she could tell. Elena continued forwards, eyes scanning back and forth between the windows and the open metal door. It felt like her senses were on overdrive, especially as things were just that little bit too quiet for her liking.

Elena approached the door from the side, easing herself into the control room with cautious conviction, gun first, poised at a downward angle. Her heart was pulsing uncomfortably in her throat.

She was scarcely over the threshold when, before she could so much as blink, the door swung towards her with impossible speed, slamming hard into the full length of her right side and ramming her against the wall. Crushing pain reverberated through her head and torso as she crumpled to her knees. Through the dampening haze of the initial shock, Elena realised that the intruder must have been crouching behind the door, below the level of the windows, waiting for her. She couldn't decide which was worse; the feeling of utter stupidity, or the knowledge that she had one hell of a struggle on her hands.

Her gun flew from her grasp under the impact and skated across the floor, coming to rest out of reach. Elena lunged after it without a moment's hesitation, propelling herself forwards from her kneeling position. The adrenalin-fuelled plan was to grab the gun, roll over and take things from there. It seemed, however, that her thinking was not so different to her assailant's: they both went for her weapon at the same time. The air was forced from her lungs as the intruder landed on top of her, frantically vying for control as he tried to restrain her outstretched arms.

Just like his counterpart back on the bridge, this one was wearing black leather gloves. Strong fingers clamped around her right wrist in a vice-like grip and, with mortifying ease, he bent her arm round and pinned it to her back. Elena gave a short, sharp cry of pain as her weakened shoulder submitted. Why oh why was Tseng _always_ right?

She tilted onto her left side as far as she could with her attacker's greater weight still bearing down on her, stretching her left arm out. Her fingertips made contact with the familiar, ridged grip of her gun and scrambled for purchase. The intruder had obviously realised what she was up to and, maintaining his grip on her right wrist with one hand, he pressed himself down harder against her and tried to grab her left hand. Due to the awkward angle, however, he managed only to get hold of her cuff with a laboured grunt. Elena felt what must have been his knees digging into the backs of her thighs as he tried to claw his way forward to extend his reach.

Trying as hard as she was to regain her gun, her scrabbling fingertips ended up pushing the grip of the weapon further away. Just as she was starting to lose hope, her fingers closed around what felt like the barrel of the firearm, which, as the gun had rotated, was now closer to her than the grip.

It was futile to try and adjust her hold on the gun as she was, so Elena did the only thing she could think of: aiming at where she suspected her assailant's head was, she swung her left arm backwards over her shoulder, gun held firmly, if somewhat awkwardly, in her hand.

Elena couldn't be sure which bit of him she had hit, but she had certainly hit something judging by the heated curse that escaped the intruder. She repeated the move before he had the chance to stop her and she felt his weight shift above her, just as he released her right wrist. Spurred on by the small victory, Elena rolled forcefully to one side, alleviating herself from most of his weight. She wrestled her way out from under him, crawled forward under the momentum and stumbled inelegantly to her feet. Her thumb was somehow tangled up in the gun's trigger guard and before she could free it, her opponent was up off the floor and stood facing her.

He, too, was wearing a black, hooded top which, especially in the dark control room, obscured most of his face. Blood glistened on his cheek, no doubt from where she had cuffed him. He struck a menacing pose, due mainly to the squareness of his shoulders and his muscled height.

Neither said a word, and neither moved. They stood, as if rooted to the spot, looking at each other.

Elena severely doubted she would stand a chance against him in a physical fight. He was a lot bigger than she was and going by their recent scuffle, appeared to know how to use his size. Her right arm was next to useless in any capacity that required considerable strength and dexterity, and she was out of breath already, her body yet to regain the level of fitness she had been accustomed to prior to the incident with the Remnants. Her gun was her only chance.

Strangely, though, he appeared to be unarmed. Had he had a knife or other weapon, he surely would have used it by now. Appearances could be deceiving, though, as Elena well knew.

"Who are you?" she demanded. She flexed her entangled thumb, feeling some positive movement.

He said nothing and simply watched her fidgeting hands, which she had clasped almost politely in front of herself, as if she were standing before a superior officer. That was, if one overlooked the obvious presence of her gun between her fingers.

Elena knew there was no distracting him as her thumb slipped out from between the trigger and the trigger guard. She would just have to be quick.

Quick, however, was not quick enough. The figure launched at her just as she raised her weapon. As she fired, the intruder bellowed something unintelligible as her body was met with an overwhelming blast of cold that thrust her backwards so fast that her feet left the ground. She collided with something large that gave under her weight and she continued to fall without a hope in hell of stopping herself. Elena hit the ground amongst the deafening crash of metal on metal, landing on the irregular form of whatever it was she had been thrown against and subsequently knocked over. Judging by the disorderly array of tools and parts on the ground around her, some of which were still rolling across the floor, she guessed that she must have fallen against the freestanding shelving unit she had glimpsed at some point earlier, during the initial struggle.

For a moment, she was too cold to register any pain. Most of the shelves seemed to have flattened under her back. And then the realisation struck as clear as day: _Ice._

She hadn't felt anything even vaguely comparable for well over a year. Since the fall of Meteor, when the Lifestream had risen up to defend the Planet, odd things had been happening with Materia. Much of it became ineffective, much of it simply disappeared, whilst some seemed unaffected. Either way, good Materia had gradually become something of a rarity. It was only out of habit that Elena continued to wear her Dragon Armlet, which drained half of all Fire and Ice attacks. Had she not been wearing it, a high-end Ice spell such as the one she had just endured would have been near fatal.

Before she could collect herself enough to move an ominous shadow appeared above her, and he was holding a gun. Her gun. As if losing it twice in one day wasn't bad enough, she would never live down being shot with her own weapon. And not just in the metaphorical sense.

"It's the end of the line, Turk," the intruder said, standing over her with his feet either side of her legs. "And it's the end of the line for this reactor."

"Call yourself an eco-warrior?" Elena mocked, managing a smile that masked her humiliation, and her fear. "Not very green of you to be using Materia. You do know it's just refined Mako, same as what you'll find in this reactor?"

"Needs must," he shrugged, crouching. As he leaned forward, something dripped to the floor near Elena's ear. She frowned questioningly up at him, spotting then the dark patch in the shoulder of his hooded jacket; it was a bullet wound. So her shot had hit home, for all the good it had done. "I'll make this quick for you, as I don't really take much pleasure from this sort of thing."

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he placed the muzzle of the gun to her head.

"Why do it, then?"

"Because I believe this Planet deserves better. Because Shinra's taken so much from me that I don't think there's actually anything left of _me_ anymore."

Elena looked up at him, seeing his eyes for the first time.

_I don't think there's actually anything left of_ me _anymore_. Somehow, he had described with uncanny accuracy just how Elena had seen herself since the mission to the Crater, only she hadn't been able to put the feeling into words until now. Looking into his eyes was like looking in the mirror.

"Go on, then," she said quietly, almost unnerved by her own earnestness. "What are you waiting for?"

The shot that followed was not quite what she had expected it to be. Heavy blackness descended up on her, quite literally, crushing her to the floor in a way that made it hard to breathe. Someone had shot the intruder before he could shoot her. Elena swallowed. There must only have been a split second in it, if that. Her nose was filled with the smell of him; a mixture of sweat and deodorant, and somewhere amongst it, blood.

The dead weight lifted suddenly as her saviour rolled his body off of hers.

"Elena?"

Looking down at her, dark eyes wide with concern, lips parted a fraction in anticipation, was Tseng. Elena stared up at him, utterly bewildered at how it was possible to feel so relieved yet so embarrassed, in equal measures, at precisely the same time.

"Are you all right?" he asked, still looking at her with concern that bordered on frantic. He was breathing a little heavily, as though he had been running.

"Yes," Elena gave an uncertain nod, unable to tear her eyes from him. "Just, um..." she began incoherently, pushing herself up to her elbows and inadvertently sending one of the many pieces of equipment scattered around her rolling as she moved. Tseng offered her his hand, which she tentatively took. He pulled her smoothly to her feet, his other hand gripping her upper arm as she swayed, steadying her.

They stood for a quiet moment, until Tseng let go of her hand and smoothed a piece of ice out of her damp hair. Elena looked at the floor, doing her best not to let her emotions get the better of her. She wasn't usually so sensitive but the humiliation of needing to be rescued twice within the month – of displaying such _incompetence_ in front of Tseng – was almost more than her pride could bear, and there was always something about a near-death experience that was jarringly grounding. And then there was Tseng, who was still holding onto her arm, standing close enough to her that she could feel his breath on her face, so close that her eyes were now level with his neck and she couldn't see upwards of his jaw.

She blinked hard, determined not to commit the ultimate undignified act of crying in front of another Turk. Tseng pulled gently, urging her closer still until she dared rest her cheek against his shoulder. Perhaps the intruder really had shot her and this was just some heavenly fantasy, she thought cynically, until that familiar scent reached her nostrils; a deep, oriental flavour, a spice of some kind, twined with a luxurious freshness that was just right, not too harsh and not too soft. Elena felt the side of his chin contact lightly with the top of her head. This was as real as it was ever going to be.

It was funny how the slightest touch, the very smallest of gestures, could be so comforting coming from Tseng, when from anyone else it would have been all but insignificant.

Tseng cleared his throat and moved back a little, not yet removing his hand from her arm. Elena straightened, tilting her head to look up at him. His lips were inches from her own, his eyes riveted to her face.

In the next moment, Tseng had released her and the distance between them had doubled.

"Is he...?" Elena glanced down at the still form of the intruder. It was best to keep her mind on the job.

"Yes," Tseng replied. Elena supposed he must have checked when he had pulled the intruder off of her. Tseng was thorough like that.

He was scrutinising her face with a mild frown, eyes settling somewhere on her forehead, though his earlier sense of urgency appeared to have gone. Elena touched her fingers to the area just above her left temple, near her eyebrow. It had been throbbing ever since the door had slammed her against the wall, so it came as little surprise to feel a small, mildly swollen cut.

"It seems he came prepared," Tseng added, gesturing with a nod to an open rucksack on the floor, to Elena's left. "There's probably enough there to destroy the whole reactor. He must have been about to set the timer when you interrupted him."

Elena released a deep breath at the sight of the explosives. So today had not been a total failure on her part; had the intruder succeeded, half the Continent would have been left without power for the foreseeable future.

"What about Captain Ennis?" Elena asked.

"He says you saved his life," said Tseng. "He'll be fine. Which is more than I might have been able to say for you." A matter-of-factness had entered his tone.

Elena gave a delayed nod. "You got my voicemail," she assumed.

"I did," Tseng replied, turning to the body and crouching down. He began checking the terrorist's pockets, searching for some kind of identification. "Your orders were to stay in Healin, if I remember rightly."

Elena shifted. He was waiting for a response of some sort, likely one that was in agreement with him.

"Yes," she said at length. She approached the rucksack, suddenly in dire need of something to do. "But then I got a call from Captain Ennis, as you know, and there was no one else available; Reno and Rude are a few hours away in the Junon area, and you were with the President." The front and side pockets were empty, barring a pair of wire cutters. "I didn't think we could afford to just let this one go – and evidently we couldn't."

She stood once more, daring to look at her boss. He was cradling the Ice Materia orb in one hand, studying it with some interest.

"You disobeyed a direct order, Elena. You should have let the backup team deal with it."

Elena opened her mouth in protest, then promptly closed it again as she forced herself to think before she spoke.

"Rufus' new directive states that the Turks have to be contacted in the event of anything suspicious at a reactor," she replied.

"It does, yes," Tseng nodded. He rose to his feet, having found nothing noteworthy. "And you were contacted, as per the directive. Nowhere does it say that members of the Turks should then proceed to disobey any other orders they may have and go charging off on a solo mission to deal with the incident."

"I thought you wanted me to show more initiative," said Elena despairingly.

"Quite. Initiative, in this instance, would have been to contact other available security personnel to attend the scene, as you did," Tseng duly conceded. "However, as they arrived here shortly before I did, they could have taken care of the situation and would have been better equipped to do so. I doubt it's slipped your mind that you're still recovering from the previous mission, Elena, and are in no fit state to be taking on assignments of this nature."

He was looking pointedly at her right shoulder, which Elena was absently massaging with her left hand.

"He very nearly killed you," he added, glancing demonstratively at the body.

"There wasn't time," Elena shook her head. "It just so happened that the team arrived here as you did and might well have stopped the attack, but I wasn't to know that. I did what I thought was best under the circumstances."

"I'm not disputing that your presence here made a difference," Tseng shook his head. "But that is beside the point. You disobeyed a direct order."

Elena sighed dispiritedly. Tseng was right, whether she liked it or not, but what choice had she had?

"Yes, sir," she replied. "I did, and I'm sorry. But—"

"No buts, Elena," he interjected coldly, passing her her gun before moving towards the door and withdrawing his PHS from his jacket pocket. Elena didn't even have to guess that he would be calling a team to come and clean up the mess. _Typical, efficient Tseng._

Once they were outside the reactor, having said not one more word to one another, Elena took the car keys from her pocket and made for the company vehicle.

"You're coming back to Healin with me," Tseng spoke suddenly, without looking at her. Elena stopped in her tracks and faced the Turk leader. Whilst she might not have felt up to driving, she was even less inclined to sit in an enclosed space at close quarters with her displeased boss. She was about to protest under the reasoning that someone would have to drive the other car back to the Lodge, when Tseng shot her a discouraging glance.

Elena approached the passenger side of Tseng's car. The next twenty minutes were going to feel like a miserable eternity.


	15. Chapter 15

Tseng sat tensely in his office chair, eyes narrowed rather cat-like as he stared the blinking cursor on his computer screen. He had scarcely typed more than a few sentences of his report in the hour he had been there since returning from the reactor. Elena he had sent to see Lara at the clinic with terse instructions not to return until the doctor said so. She could sulk all she liked.

Reno was sitting quietly across the room, and for once a lot more typing was going on at his desk than at the Turk leader's. He and Rude had had a successful afternoon, having obtained enough names from an informant in Junon to break the back of the case.

Tseng found himself yet again to be circling the issue of his professionalism. Had he taken a moment or two longer to react, he could have perhaps shot the intruder in the side, or the shoulder, or simply anywhere that could have subdued him without killing him, leaving the Turks with someone to interrogate. But the mere sight of him kneeling over Elena, holding a gun to her head, had been too horrendous and he had shot to kill without hesitation. As it was he had feared he would be too late. Had he felt differently for her, would he have taken just a split second more to think of the information Shinra needed out of the intruder? Tseng frowned, knowing that he would have acted the same had it been Reno or Rude in Elena's position. And there were never any guarantees of survival when shooting at anyone, regardless of whether the intention was to kill or merely to maim.

Perhaps he felt uneasy because, again, he had allowed himself a few moments of closeness with her that came precariously close to a repeat of that afternoon before the mission to the Crater. Yes, that was more like it.

Tseng resumed typing just as the door opened and Elena appeared. She turned away just as he looked up, closing the door after herself, and moved to sit at her desk without once lifting her eyes to look at him. Tseng noticed the small cut on her head had a couple of steri-strips stuck over it. She had straightened her suit and smoothed her hair back behind her ears, making her appear more composed than she probably felt.

"I hear you were quite the hero at the reactor," Reno piped up from his desk, smiling.

"It was nothing quite so glamorous," Elena replied. Her back was to Tseng, rendering him unable to see her face. Her hands were gripping the back of her chair behind her, knuckles white. "Luck had a lot to do with it."

"Ain't nothing wrong with that," Reno shrugged.

"Isn't there?" Tseng cut in suddenly.

Reno seemed a little taken aback at the tartness of the Turk leader's tone. Elena literally ducked out of the impending discussion, turning to sit down at her desk with her gaze lowered.

"It never hurts to have Lady Luck on your side in this job, is all I'm saying," Reno responded.

"The good sense to wait for backup might hurt even less. Especially," Tseng switched his gaze to Elena, who looked up at her boss when he paused, "when you're a compromised operative under strict instructions _not_ to leave the office."

Elena swallowed and looked away.

Tseng caught the disapproving glance Reno cast in his direction, and instantly regretted what he had said regardless of the fact that it was the truth. The last thing he wanted to do was rub salt in Elena's wounds, even if his annoyance was justified.

But more than anything he was furious, on an entirely personal level, that Elena had put herself at risk like that. He bit his tongue, knowing that if he wasn't careful it would show. And then there was the part of him that was deeply annoyed with her for affecting him like this.

"I'm out of report cover sheets," Elena announced to no one in particular, rising from her seat. "I'm going to photocopy some more." Colour had rushed to her cheeks and Tseng saw her lower lip quiver for a moment before she sealed her mouth into a tight line. She was gone before anyone could say anything in response.

Tseng was reminded suddenly of what he had heard Elena say to her assailant just has he had entered the control room at the reactor: _Go on then. What are you waiting for?_

Had she really meant it? Or was it just a turn of phrase; a way of inducing second thoughts in the gunman to play for time? Tseng could only hope that Elena had not reached a point so low that there had been any sincerity in that remark. Judging by her face a few moments ago, it couldn't be ruled out.

"That was a bit harsh, don't you think?" Reno spoke up.

"What was?" Tseng asked, raising an eyebrow and meeting the other Turk's gaze in a way that said he knew exactly what Reno was referring to, but that the matter was not up for discussion.

"What you said to Elena," Reno replied levelly, expression unrelenting. "It's not her fault we're understaffed and the nearest back up was half an hour away. What else would you have had her do?"

Tseng looked at him blankly. "Don't question me, Reno," he said after a pause, returning his attention to his computer screen.

"I'm just saying," Reno shrugged. He rested his chin on his clenched knuckle, elbow propped on the armrest of his swivel chair. His gaze did not waver once from the Turk leader. "She's had a tough time this month."

"Exactly," Tseng agreed, without losing focus on the screen.

Reno shifted in his chair.

"Is something going on?" he asked.

Tseng ceased typing for a heartbeat, and then resumed as though Reno had not just hit the nail on the head with a heavy-duty sledgehammer.

"Like what?" He raised an eyebrow. His tone indicated that he was starting to lose patience with Reno's topic of conversation.

"I don't know. Things between you and Elena have seemed a bit... strained since... you know."

"Since what?" Tseng countered.

"Since the Remnants. Since before you left on the mission, even."

"Are you interrogating me, Reno?"

"No, I'm just—"

"Just saying, yes." Tseng pushed his chair back a little and levelled his gaze at Reno. He knew with damning certainty that he was going to have to give a little ground. An exercise in damage limitation. "Has it occurred to you that the events of a few weeks ago might have left their mark? On both of us?"

"Well, of course," Reno replied. His voice was thin with the beginnings of guilt. "I had... thought about that. But I didn't think things were quite right with you and her before that," he ventured.

Before Tseng could speak, or give in to the fanciful urge to march over to Reno's desk and thump him for such blatant insubordination, a muffled crash followed by a curse penetrated the thin wall dividing the Turks' office from the adjacent photocopying room.

Tseng stood up smoothly, beating Reno to it. The redhead sat poised to move from his chair, fingers curled around both armrests.

"I'll go," Tseng said flatly. When he reached the door, he turned to Reno. "Incidentally, the way I manage the Turks – harsh or otherwise – is my prerogative. You'd do well to remember that."

"Yes," Reno gave a nod. "Sir."

_-x-_

Elena was standing with her back to the door, one hand on her hip with her other elbow resting on one of the shelves to her right, head bowed. Papers were scattered across the floor.

Tseng cleared his throat. Elena visibly jumped but did not turn around.

"Sorry," she said quickly, crouching down. So she knew it was him. She began to scoop the papers together.

"Elena," he began softly, taking a few steps into the room. He left the door open.

"Sorry," she repeated, hastening her efforts to tidy up the mess. "I... tripped on something and dropped the lot and then—"

"Stop apologising," he interrupted. As he came to a halt behind her, Elena froze, shoulders tense. Tseng moved around her before kneeling down to help gather the papers off the floor. After a few moments, he lifted his gaze to find her watching him with some surprise. Her eyes were glassy and her cheeks flushed. "You are... all right?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Fine," Elena confirmed, nodding. She resumed picking up the papers.

"I was harsh on you earlier," Tseng continued, still looking at her. "As your superior, it falls to me to ensure the welfare of the Turks. The orders I gave you were in your best interest."

"I know," Elena replied. "It's fine."

They stood up at the same time, both looking down at the papers in their hands. Tseng passed his pile to Elena, laying them on top of those in her grasp but did not let go straight away.

"There's only an hour until you clock off," he said. "Go home early."

"I might as well just finish my report," Elena replied. Apparently realising that might have been an order, she continued: "If that's all right?"

Tseng gave a nod. "Of course. But don't..." he slowed to a brief pause. "Overdo it."

Elena looked from his hands that were still holding onto his end of the pile, to his face. Tseng could almost have laughed at how easy it would have been to just pull her forwards into him, yet his arms were as though frozen in place and he felt a long way from laughing. _But would it be so easy?_ he asked himself. Would Elena reciprocate now as she had done on that afternoon before going to the Crater? He had treated her with more than enough cold indifference on and off to dispel any affection she might have had for him.

Yet there she was, unmoving, standing close enough that he could smell the mixture of perfume with a unique, clean and soft scent that was just _her_. He tried to focus on her tie but his eyes caught on her lips and he knew then that he was about to fall in.

Mercifully, a movement in the corridor outside caught his attention and Tseng looked up to see Rufus passing the doorway.

"Rufus, sir," he cleared his throat, letting go of the papers in both their hands and sidestepping Elena. Rufus stopped, taking a step back to look into the photocopying room.

"Tseng."

"I wanted a word," Tseng explained, having reached the doorway. He gestured with an open palm for Rufus to lead the way. The air seemed cooler now. As they began walking, Tseng was aware of Elena leaving the photocopying room behind them and heading back to the Turks' office. He was looking at the President but his entire peripheral focus was on Elena as she walked away.

"Let me guess," Rufus replied, one eyebrow cocked in cynical anticipation. "Staffing issues." Tseng was about to speak, when Rufus went on, expression suddenly genuine. "And you'd be quite right."

"I realise we can't increase security numbers," said Tseng. They came to a halt outside Rufus' office. "But redistributing personnel is still a viable option. After today I think it's safe to say our current measures aren't quite cutting it, not to mention it puts the staff we do have at considerable risk."

"Draw up a revised schedule and run it by me when you're done," Rufus nodded. Tseng dipped his head in acknowledgement and turned to go back to the Turks' office. "Elena did well today," the President added. "Under the circumstances."

"She did," Tseng agreed, without facing Rufus.

"Well, thanks to you both we almost certainly saved ourselves a whole lot of trouble – not to mention paperwork."

_-x-_

The sight of Reno approaching the table with a bottle and three shot glasses did not bode well. Elena sighed, wondering why she had let him talk her into coming to the bar at all. She was not feeling particularly sociable and she certainly was not in the mood to watch her colleagues drink more than she could comfortably stomach, much less partake in it. Elena wasn't much of a drinker. The sensible thing would have been to go straight home after leaving the Healin Lodge that evening. Elena had a cynical inkling, however, that she secretly fancied the idea of getting just a little bit drunk after the day she had had.

And so she had gone with Reno and Rude to their usual bar in Edge. They had just finished their second round of lager when, horror of horrors, Tseng walked up to their table. He had declined Reno's earlier invitations to join them, saying that he had a few things to finish off. It wasn't unusual for him to work late when they were handling an important case. As soon as Elena saw his face she was right back in the central control room at the reactor earlier that same day, lying flat on the floor within an inch of certain death for the second time that month. It had been mortifyingly embarrassing and the feeling flared every time Elena so much as looked at Tseng in the hours afterwards. It didn't help matters that Tseng had appeared somewhat distant ever since they had arrived back at Healin. He engrossed himself in his work but Elena had caught him staring into space several times, a deep, contemplative expression on his face. Every time he looked at her Elena sensed his displeasure. And as for the scene in the photocopier room; he might have come to help her, but the way he had stared at her so expressionlessly before walking off without so much as a word to catch Rufus in the corridor left Elena with an odd sense of loss. It was as if, romantic feelings to one side, their working relationship had fallen apart. The closeness they had shared as partners, despite Tseng's superior rank, was gone only to be replaced with unbearable awkwardness.

Tseng, and a pressing need to relieve the stress that afternoon had brought about, were the only reasons Elena was at the bar now, the idea of going home to brood over the day's events soul-destroyingly awful. Elena had not, however, bargained with him showing up.

"Hey, thought you weren't coming," Reno greeted Tseng as he arrived back at the table.

"I had a change of heart," Tseng replied, taking a seat. "Seems I finished earlier than I thought I would."

"Even you're not immune to my powers of persuasion, huh?" Reno grinned smugly, setting down the bottle and shot glasses. Tseng pulled a hollow smile, settling for humouring Reno. "Sorry, 'Lena," Reno went on, "but they're all out of soft drinks." Elena rolled her eyes at him. This wasn't the first time that Reno had reported the bar to be curiously sold out of non-alcoholic beverages. "Looks like you'll have to join us in polishing off this instead," he nodded to the vodka. "Cactaur Brand, from Costa del Sol. Always reminds me of being on holiday."

Reno took his seat opposite Tseng and to Elena's left at the square table. Rude was sitting across from Elena, leaning forwards on the table and resting on both elbows with his forearms loosely folded in front of him. The lighting in the bar was soothingly dim yet still the bald Turk was wearing his sunglasses. "Oh, we'll need another glass," Reno realised, opening the bottle and starting to fill each of the three shot glasses arranged in a cluster before him.

"I'll go," Elena volunteered, standing before anyone else could. Without looking at Tseng, she stepped out from between her chair and the table and approached the bar.

She knew before she even got there that she would have to wait to be served; several customers were hovering around the counter, all of them vying for the attention of one of the two bartenders as soon as they finished with a previous patron. At least it would give her a few minutes to attempt to relax.

"Hey." Elena hesitated a moment before looking in the direction the voice had come from, unsure if he was speaking to her. As she turned her head, she was met by what most women would have described as a handsome face, lit by a charming smile. "If I get service first, how about I buy you a drink?" Although such forwardness from someone she had never even clapped eyes on before could often be off-putting, it didn't really enter the equation there and then. Irritatingly, the first thing that ran through her mind was that even if she didn't find him physically unattractive, there was no way she could be interested in him because she was head over heels for someone else. And oh how she hated that thought.

"Thanks," Elena flashed a polite smile, "but I'm with friends." She nodded vaguely in the direction of their table.

"Fair enough," he shrugged, although the glint in his eyes told Elena he wasn't giving up just yet. "But they kind of look as though they're doing all right over there without you for now."

Elena found herself repeating the same modest smile that clearly said 'Thanks but no thanks.' It usually worked.

"Just one drink? I promise I won't keep you – not unless you decide you want me to, that is," he shrugged with one shoulder, head tilting marginally to one side. He moved closer to her and Elena saw his nearest arm lifting slowly away from his body, reaching out behind her. Part of her was ready to grab his wrist before his arm could settle across her shoulders and threaten to break it but she didn't, reminding herself where she was, that she was off duty, and that this could probably be dealt with without resorting to violence. She didn't fancy the commotion, or the attention that came with it, right now. He was probably harmless enough, anyway.

As he put his arm around her loosely, Elena could smell the alcohol on him.

"Really," she said, this time more firmly. "I can't."

"Just a small one?" he pleaded, mouth close to her ear. He turned his body towards her, gesturing 'a small one' with his index finger and thumb.

Just at that moment, Elena caught a bartender's eye and leaned forward. "Just a shot glass, please," she spoke up. Her admirer had moved with her, tightening his hold around her shoulders. She took hold of his wrist and swiftly twisted away from him, finishing in a position standing opposite him, his wrist still in her grasp. "That's enough," she said, voice low with authority. He was staring at her blankly, as if trying to work out when and how they had switched positions. "I think you've had a bit much to drink."

He nodded a little dumbly. "Yeah," he said. "Maybe I have. Sorry, I just—"

"Is everything all right?"

The inquiry came from behind Elena, and the subtle threat was audible in his voice. Tseng.

"Everything's fine," Elena replied, releasing the man's outstretched wrist. Her grip had softened into barely more than a touch, anyway. She saw him eyeing Tseng cautiously, and in the same moment detected the slightest movement against her back. A brief glance to her right and she realised that Tseng was partially behind her, the left side of his chest brushing against her shoulder.

"Yeah, sorry," the guy repeated, eyes now darting ponderingly back and forth between Tseng and Elena. Elena would have said that the penny was starting to drop that they were both wearing the same suit, and was starting to ask himself if he should have been worried. "I just um… got a bit ahead of myself."

The bartender reappeared, holding out a glass to Elena. She took it with a nod of acknowledgement and her admirer took this as his cue to leave before incurring any further embarrassment.

Elena turned to Tseng, unsure of whether to be grateful that he had her back or furious that he dared interfere. What business was it of his?

"Thanks," she muttered, attempting a smile but without making prolonged eye contact. "But there was no need."

Tseng replied with the vaguest of nods and motioned that they should return to the table.

Reno said nothing as they sat down but rather looked from Tseng to her with an almost devilishly satisfied expression. Elena suspected that, after a drink or two, teasing of some sort would ensue.

"So," said Reno, opening the bottle and filling Tseng's glass. "I was thinking that we can kind of celebrate after today. You know, treat ourselves."

"We do this at least once a week, Reno," Rude remarked.

"Yes, well, today we have a better reason than 'just because'," Reno went on, waving a dismissive hand in Rude's direction. "Like gaining enough intel on our little terrorist group during our outing to Junon to finally track down and nail the bastards. And our regular Supergirl over here saved the world – well, half the continent – from a life of doom and darkness."

Elena felt herself shrink into her chair as the one topic she had been hoping to avoid arose, even if Reno was paying her a compliment. Perhaps it wouldn't have bothered her so much had Tseng shrugged the whole thing off as easily as everyone else had. It probably would have bothered her even less if things weren't already so awkward between Tseng and her, try as she might to talk herself out of feeling anything for him that went beyond professional. All of that aside, Elena couldn't really say she felt much like celebrating the day's achievements when she thought about the two men she had encountered back in the reactor. She knew she had allowed herself to empathise too much with them, particularly the second intruder, and the whole thing had left her with the bitter aftertaste of sadness. Vodka shots seemed suddenly much more appealing.

Tseng chuckled lightly, only just audible above the background buzz of conversation and chinking glasses. "So am I to understand that you're treating us, Reno?" He raised a teasing eyebrow, gesturing with one hand to himself, Elena and Rude. "And as I recall, it was Rude and I who found out about their operations in Junon all those months ago, when we 'sat in' on the meeting between that arms dealer and known anti-Shinra activist at this very bar here in Edge."

Rude gave a nod of agreement. "Yes, that's how I remember things," he said, presenting Reno with a deadpan expression.

Reno's smile vanished, eyes fixed earnestly on Tseng's face.

"Fine," he conceded eventually, feigning upset. "Tonight's tab is on me." His demeanour brightened once more, no doubt at the excuse Tseng and Rude had just handed him for a drinking fest, and Elena felt suddenly unsettled. "I guess you guys _did_ do the hard work on this one, but Elena and I weren't twiddling our tongues – err, _thumbs_ – the entire time back on that mission."

Elena glared at Reno. She instantly regretted it, knowing any attempt to get him to drop the subject would only encourage him even more. Reno had already put away two bottles of lager, and he had a tendency to make light of awkward situations – past or present – after a few drinks. Why, though, did that particular topic, out of everything, have to come up now?

"Aw come on, Elena, it wasn't that bad, was it?" Reno jested. To be frank, Elena had expected Reno's witty remarks about their close encounter in the car to go on for a little while – this was Reno, after all – and knew it was optimistic to think he had forgotten about it even after several months. And it would have been just about bearable had Tseng not been there. Reno put a full shot glass down in front of her. "So come on, how did I rate on a scale of one to ten?"

"Reno," Elena sighed. It would probably have been quicker and less painful to just give him an answer.

"Ten? Nine and a half?" Reno grinned flirtatiously.

Elena kicked him in the shin under the table. Reno snapped forward in his seat to massage his leg. Rude snorted, his mouth curling into a smile that said _I could have told you so_. "That's what I would have done at the time if it wouldn't have blown the mission," Elena replied. "So consider that your rating."

Reno laughed. "Fair enough," he shrugged, patting Elena hard on the shoulder. "I'll give you a seven; could've made just a little bit more effort to get into the role."

"Reno." There was something of a warning in Tseng's tone.

Elena didn't dare look at the Turk Director. Instead, she downed her shot. The world wasn't going to open and swallow her up, but there was more than one way to skin a cat.

"Now, Tseng," Reno smiled, his eyes worryingly mischievous. It took a lot for Reno to get drunk but not much at all for him to lose about ninety percent of what inhibitions he did have. "Don't tell me you're going soft on Blondie over there." Reno's playful tone was met by silence. "I have it on good authority from Reeve that you asked Elena to dinner back in the Temple of the Ancients, you know."

It seemed to take Reno's brain a moment to register just what he had said. Elena judged by his expression that he knew before he even looked at Tseng's face that his mouth had not only run away with him, but it had ploughed headlong into potentially very dangerous territory, even if Tseng did (off duty, mind) have a sense of humour. Part of her, though, was inclined to think that Reno wasn't as out of control as he was making out; he might have liked to joke, often near the knuckle, but he was a long way from foolish. If that was the case, the possible reasons behind Reno's banter didn't bear thinking about. "Well, who knew that cute cat would make such a good spy," Reno went on, his voice tensely casual. "Another drink, anyone?" Seeing that Elena's glass was empty, Reno promptly filled it from the bottle.

Elena stole a glance at Tseng, who was glaring admonishingly at Reno. Elena forced herself to believe that Reno hadn't meant anything serious by it but Tseng didn't appear to think so. Watching the Turk leader's face made her wonder if he regretted having asked her out back in the Temple, especially as the topic had never again been mentioned. Before she really knew what she was doing, her fingers had found the cool, round form of her glass and she was swallowing another mouthful of vodka. She didn't much care for the taste but something about the sensation it left in her throat was just what she needed.

Her mind returned to that fateful day when Tseng had invited her to dinner; to the day when Sephiroth had stabbed him. How was it possible to feel so much joy one minute, and such devastation the next? Caith Sith had tipped her off as to what had happened after she returned from reporting to Rufus. Elena remembered Tseng sitting slumped at the Temple's entrance, barely conscious and covered in blood. She knew then that her feelings for him went far beyond a simple crush; she had never been more afraid of losing someone in her life. How she had managed to drag him out of the Temple before it collapsed in on itself, she didn't know.

Elena remembered accompanying him to the hospital. The agonising wait in the corridor until Reno arrived and steered her in the direction of the toilets, the way he had held her hands under the taps to wash them clean of Tseng's blood. Who knew Reno could be so caring when he had spent the entire week deriding her rookie behaviour.

"You did good today, Elena," he'd said as he dabbed at her shaking hands with a towel. "You had Tseng's back when he needed it most. That's what counts in this job."

Elena remembered him taking her home. His parting words to her had remained in her mind ever since: "For what it's worth, I think Tseng likes you." Reno had never said anything else on the subject.

Elena only visited Tseng once in the hospital. He regained consciousness the following day and Elena had found an excuse to see him; Rufus had wanted to know exactly what had happened, what Sephiroth had said and if he had given any indications as to what his next plans were. Elena had volunteered for the task, as Rufus had been too busy with the ever-worsening crisis to visit the Turk Director straight away. Despite how pleased she was to see that Tseng was all right, she found herself thinking that he would want her to focus on the job. That to one side, it was easier for her to focus on the job to keep herself from going out of her mind after what had happened in the Temple. And so the visit to the hospital ended up being awkward and stilted, as much as Elena wanted to wrap her arms around him and never let go. Given a choice she would have spent every spare moment at his bedside but it would have been unprofessional, and Tseng would probably have disapproved. He would have wanted privacy and time to recover in peace.

Elena looked down to find that her glass was miraculously full once more. She considered it a moment, her better judgement telling her that she had already had more than enough and reminding her how she disliked hangovers. Elena raised the glass to her lips; she was not yet drunk enough to forget how embarrassed she felt after today, or after Reno's latest remark to Tseng.

"Sheesh, Rufus needs to lighten up," Reno's voice interrupted her thoughts. How long had she been reminiscing? The topic of conversation had clearly changed. Tseng was leaning back in his chair, relaxed. Any tension that had been present before was gone. "Especially now, what with the mountains Shinra's having to climb in order to stay on top."

"Shinra will always have enemies and Rufus knows that," Tseng said with a sigh. "He's known that since he was a child."

"Guess you can't blame him, really – I mean, growing up with the mindset that everyone's out to get you must take its toll," Reno agreed. "What he needs is a girlfriend."

Elena found herself smirking; she had underestimated how delightful it was to be ahead of Reno as far as gossip was concerned. But then, Rufus had sworn her to secrecy about his new relationship with his now former doctor, denying Elena the satisfaction of being the one to tell Reno the latest juicy morsel for once.

"Elena." Reno said her name slowly. Teasingly.

"Hmm?" Elena looked up at him. He had no doubt caught her in her moment of private satisfaction.

"Come on, I know you know something," he smiled wryly. "Spill."

"Know something about what?" Elena asked. She felt her skin clam up as she realised he was not going to be shaken. Reno was worse than a dog with a bone. "I… well, it was a while ago now," Elena began, deciding that she could be honest to a point. "I walked in on him and… well, some woman. Not seen her since, though, so I doubt it was anything serious."

"Whoa whoa whoa," Reno exclaimed, making slowing motions with his hands and sitting forward in his chair. Elena had his undivided attention. Tseng, it seemed, was also interested. "You walked in on them?" Reno assumed, jerking his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

"No, not like that," Elena shook her head quickly. "They weren't doing anything, just… sitting together, having a glass of wine and talking." 'Sitting together' might have been an economic way of putting it, as she recalled, but Reno's imagination was wild enough to interpret that for himself.

"And you never mentioned this?"

"Must have slipped my mind."

"Unbelievable," Reno shook his head. "How could you sit on something like that?"

Elena shrugged nonchalantly, inwardly relieved that she had just about pulled it off. "Can't the guy have a life away from us? I mean, we scrutinise his movements enough as it is."

"With good reason," Tseng replied, eyes locking with Elena's in one of his penetrating stares. "He is still Gaia's autocrat, even if not by such a wide margin as he once was." Something about his tone was deeply disconcerting and it was aimed right at her. She looked down at the table, only to find Reno had filled her glass yet again. As much as her better judgement was adamantly bleating at her not to touch one more drop, she had done enough squirming that evening to rival a champion racing snake, if there was such a thing; Elena's intoxicated mind wasn't all that bothered.

She picked up the glass, feeling Tseng's eyes on her, telling her that she might have wanted to reconsider her current course of action. She closed her eyes, swallowed and instantly became nauseous as the alcohol burned a path to her stomach. That was definitely going to be the last. She didn't even really _like_ vodka to begin with.

Reno apparently had other ideas. Rude was saying something when the redhead noticed Elena's empty glass with a sly smile. He reached for the bottle once more and was about to pour when a hand appeared over Elena's glass.

"That's quite enough," said Tseng. Reno looked to Elena.

"He's right," she agreed. "In fact, I think I'll be heading home."

"Sure you don't want just one more? It's not like you're driving," Reno replied. It was no secret that Elena had been taking a taxi rather than driving herself whilst her shoulder was yet to fully recover. Usually, she used having to drive home as an excuse not to join in with Reno, Rude and a bottle of something mind-numbing.

"I'm sure," Elena nodded. "You guys finish it." Reno shrugged and emptied the rest of the bottle into his and Rude's glasses, after Tseng declined with a subtle shake of his head.

"Guess I'll make a move after this one, too," said Rude. "It's close to throwing out time."

"And there's no dignity in being asked to leave, right?" Reno chuckled, screwing the cap back onto the now empty bottle. He chinked glasses with Rude before knocking the shot back.

As Elena rose from her chair, her legs seemed not to be quite her own and the room spun. Without really realising it, she tipped forwards and if it were not for Tseng gripping her by the arm, she would have collapsed to the floor in a scene of embarrassing inelegance. And to think she had felt quite all right when she was sitting there. Still mentally sober, she inwardly reprimanded herself that she should have known better than to get herself into this state, regardless of how badly the world appeared determined to make her suffer.

"All right?" Tseng checked, letting go of her slowly once he realised she had placed her palm on the tabletop. Elena nodded, feeling a pang of humiliation tug at her gut and not for the first time that evening, let alone that day.

Even more infuriating was that Reno and Rude had probably demolished the lion's share of the bottle yet they were both standing there, straightening their jackets as though they had been on nothing but distilled water for the entire evening.

"Easy, 'Lena!" Reno exclaimed, laughing. "So much for Miss 'Just-a-soft-drink-for-me'." He reached out and ruffled her hair. Elena swatted a hand at him, which he caught and pushed back towards her face. She rediscovered her strength just before he managed to make her hit herself on the nose.

"Asshole," she mumbled irritably, although unable to completely mask the undertone of affection in her voice. Somehow it was hard to be angry with him even if he had largely contributed to how awfully drunk she now felt.

"Yeah, good night to you, too, sweetie," Reno pulled an exaggerated smile. "Be seeing you bright and early tomorrow." He left in the direction of the bar, fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. Reno was a man of his word, if nothing else.

Rude nodded to Tseng and Elena before following Reno at a distance; both of them lived within walking distance of the bar and so usually left together before parting a few blocks away.

"Night, Tseng," Elena said quietly, already beginning to walk, albeit it rather cautiously, towards the exit. She swayed a little, paused to right herself, and continued towards the steps leading up to the street outside.

"I'm taking you home," he replied plainly, still standing beside the table.

Elena stopped, heart throbbing in her chest.

"It's fine," she replied. "I'm taking a taxi." She began to move once more, this time narrowly avoiding a collision with a pillar.

"I don't think so." Tseng was beside her now, his voice soft but unmistakeably firm. "Come on."

_-x-_

After the buzzing background chatter of the bar, the purring hum of Tseng's luxury car was pleasantly soothing. Elena relaxed into the leather passenger seat, one elbow propped on the window ledge as she stared out of the glass. Edge was never boring; it was a city constantly growing and refining, a permanent, active building site even into the night hours.

Try as she might to meditate on the surroundings, Elena's thoughts soon found their way to topics she was trying too hard not to think about. The Remnants. Tseng and the searing ache of unrequited feelings. The anti-Shinra intruders whose faces told stories not so far from her own.

"Did you find out anything?" she asked quietly, still looking out of the window. She recalled that before she had left the office with Reno and Rude, Tseng had mentioned he was working on finding out more about who intruder in the reactor's control room was, since the informant Reno and Rude had met with in Junon had given them a more or less comprehensive list of who Shinra was dealing with. After what Reno had referred to as 'a little hands on persuasion', that was.

"About Rainer?" Tseng assumed. So far, they had managed to identify him by name and that he was one of the more key members of the activist group.

Elena nodded.

"We have a brief file on him," Tseng continued. "Which is more than can be said for most of the other names on the list. There isn't much of interest, other than a couple of instances of petty crime in the last five years, although I imagine losing his wife and child to Geostigma had something to do with his actions this afternoon."

Suddenly, what Rainer had said to her in the moments before Tseng had shot him made sense; that Shinra had taken so much from him that there was nothing left of himself anymore. He wasn't the only one to put the blame at Shinra's door for the Geostigma outbreak, with many people believing that Shinra's long-held interest in Jenova was the root cause of it all.

"I see," she muttered solemnly, voice grainy. She cleared her throat and resumed looking out of the window as silence fell once more.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Tseng shift in his seat as he slowed the car to a halt for a red light.

"You know about them, don't you?" he spoke suddenly. Elena looked over at him, frowning in puzzlement whilst at the same time her gut clenched nervously. She knew a statement disguised as a question when she heard one. His gaze was fixed ahead of him, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gear stick. "And you've known for quite some time."

"Known what?" she queried.

"About Rufus and Dr Stein."

Elena swallowed. She should have realised Tseng had worked it out back at the bar after the way he had responded to her during that conversation. Which meant that he had, somewhere along the line, found out for himself about Rufus and Lara.

"Yes," she said eventually. There was no point in lying. She felt like the dog caught with its nose in the rubbish bin. "I found out a few months ago."

It was dark in the car but Elena saw his face form an expression that was far from amused.

"And you didn't think to mention this to me?" He raised an eyebrow. "Don't misunderstand, Elena; I have no interest in idle gossip but I would have thought you'd consider that pertinent information to the President's head of security – to me, the person directly responsible for Rufus' safety."

"I would have told you," Elena began, "but Rufus told me not to tell anyone – not even you. Ordered me not to, in fact." She turned to him. "What did you expect me to do?"

"You know as well as I do that when it's a matter of security, you have a responsibility to keep me in the loop. It's not as if I would have compromised your position by asking him to confirm for me whether or not you walked in on him with his latest conquest."

Elena was starting to dislike his tone.

"Oh, right, so you'd have me disobey the President, would you?" she retorted. Alarm bells started ringing in her head that she was beginning to speak out of turn but she couldn't have cared. Her inhibitions were presently languishing at the bottom of an empty shot glass back at the bar. Besides, it wasn't as if she and Tseng were on duty now, after all. "And it's not as if we didn't do a thorough background check on Lara when she first became Rufus' doctor."

Tseng paused a moment.

"That is beside the point," he replied, shooting her a sideward glance.

"Is it?" Elena pressed. "He gave me an order and I respected it."

"Because you've been exemplary at following orders lately," said Tseng, eyebrows raised.

"Well, his name's on my paycheque, not yours," Elena rejoined. She was surprised – even a little impressed – at the matter-of-factness of her own voice when she was very nearly bursting at the seams with frustration.

When Tseng said nothing in response, it sunk in just what she had said and to whom she had said it.

"I'm sorry," she blurted. "That wasn't—"

"Oh no, you're quite right," Tseng replied with unnerving nonchalance. He offered nothing further and Elena resolved that it was probably best to keep her mouth firmly shut until she had slept off the drink.

After a few minutes, she noticed that they were coming up to the street where her apartment was located.

"Um, you could just drop me at the end of the road there," she said quietly. Tseng ignored her and turned into her street, pulling up right outside Elena's apartment block. As Elena placed her hand on the door handle, he spoke.

"Are you sure you'll be all right from here?"

"I'll be fine," she nodded. "Thanks for the lift."

She had one foot outside the car when she realised something was stopping her. Ridiculous didn't even begin to cover how she felt when Tseng cleared his throat and released her seatbelt catch for her, thus removing the problem. "Good night, Elena."

As soon as the main door to the apartment building closed after her, she heard him drive off. Her head was spinning and the first set of stairs was utterly exhausting but there was one thing she knew with unpleasant clarity: that this crippling situation could not go on. Something, or someone, would have to give, and Elena knew that it would be her. The Turks and Shinra had been her world for a very long time and she had given up her family to get to where she was, but coping with things as they stood was simply no longer an option for her and, deep down, she understood that she wasn't completely powerless in all of this. As much as a big part of her hated the idea of not seeing Tseng, of being away from a group of colleagues who had become a family of sorts to her, she owed it to herself to extricate herself from this situation before it consumed her.

She slid her key into the lock on her front door, vision blurred from a combination of the drink and the tears that were beginning to well in her eyes. Her mind was made up and all that remained was to speak to Rufus in the morning to arrange something.

_-x-_


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the penultimate chapter. Final installment should be along in a couple of weeks if all goes to plan. Thanks for reading.

"I'm leaving."

Elena stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying hard to look poised and calmly resolute rather than uncertain and moderately hung-over. She finished doing up her tie and shrugged into her uniform jacket. This time, she looked herself bluntly in the eye.

"I quit."

There. That sounded more convincing.

_But I'm not convinced,_ she shook her head with a sigh. _I'm not convinced at all._

Elena struggled with the intense tightness in her chest, knowing that if she even gave it a moment's thought she would be setting herself up for some kind of emotional breakdown. In her head, she kept on repeating in a comparatively small voice that this wasn't what she really wanted. She didn't want to leave the Turks behind; the job or the people. And how in the world was she just going to walk away from Tseng? Sometimes it was hard enough going home on a Friday night knowing she wouldn't see him for another two days on those weekends she had off. But something in her had decided to take control of the situation and was steering her away from it as if on autopilot. Perhaps it was self-preservation. Maybe even pride.

The drive to work and the walk from the car park to Rufus' office were far too short. Elena had the distinct feeling she was running headlong into something she was yet to give due consideration but was incapable of stopping herself. She half-heartedly tried to follow her usual routine and turn into the Turks' office but she didn't; she couldn't. Rather, she continued on down the corridor to the door at the end. She raised her hand to knock when the door opened and she found herself face to face with Tseng.

Elena could have sworn her heart stopped still. The timing was dreadful but all she could really see when she looked at him was a rerun of that day before they left for the Crater; of Tseng moving towards her, pushing against her until his lips touched hers.

"Elena," Tseng nodded to her, meeting her gaze for an intense second. He began moving once more, although Elena was unsure that he had actually stopped in the first place, completely professional and as though the previous evening had never happened. She was beginning to understand how it was that he was so good at masterminding Shinra's cover-ups.

"Tseng," she mumbled, stepping aside to let him pass. Her eyes followed him down the passageway, spotting his keys held loosely in his right hand. She wondered where he might have been going, and in that same moment realised that this might have been the last she would see of him for an undefined amount of time. It was a painful thought, but a necessary one.

"Going to stand out there admiring the décor all day, Elena?"

Rufus. She had, quite ironically, forgotten all about him. She decided it was probably best not to correct him that it was in fact Tseng's derriere she was admiring.

"Sorry, sir," Elena replied, stepping inside the office and shutting the door after herself.

"What can I do for you?" Rufus cocked an eyebrow. He was leaning back in his chair, index finger absently smoothing his lower lip as he looked at his computer screen. Elena stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, a good few feet separating her from the President's desk.

"I um…" she began, clearing her throat to buy herself a little more thinking time. "There isn't really an easy way to put this." Rufus' eyes were on her now, looking up at her in mild expectation. "I haven't been finding things… easy since um, the Jenova retrieval mission."

"Understandably," Rufus gave a slight nod.

"Right," Elena nodded also. She had underestimated how wrong it would feel and how frustrated it would make her to use that mission as her main excuse, even if it did play a role in the current situation.

_'Don't act so weak.'_ Somehow, Elena had been hearing Reno's words of a couple of years ago in her mind rather a lot lately. That morning, however, she had come to the conclusion that this was the only possible show of strength she had at her disposal; the strength to walk away from a situation that was claiming too much control over her. She cleared her throat. "The thing is, I don't think I can—" Elena's mouth froze midway through the sentence. The words just weren't coming. She never had been much good at making excuses.

"Sit down," Rufus said, as if it were an order. Elena did as she was told. If he had been starting to frown with impatience a few seconds ago, he was now hatching the expression he got when he saw an opportunity to take charge. He exhaled through his nose. "I hope you're not saying what I think you're saying, Elena."

Elena sighed. She could feel the burning heat in her cheeks. "I'm not sure I really know what I'm trying to say, sir," she muttered.

Rufus smiled at this.

"Well," he said, sitting up a little in his chair. "I think what you're trying to say is that things are starting to get on top of you at the moment and you'd like to take some leave to get your head together. It's not as if you had a lot of sick leave after the mission, so I'd be more than happy to make up for it now." He paused, looking confident. "Does that about cover it?"

"Right," Elena nodded, expression halfway between bewildered and relieved. "Yes."

"You're a valued member of the Turks, Elena, and I'd like to think the company treats you with the respect you deserve. I was impressed by your performance yesterday at the reactor under the circumstances."

_Circumstances_ seemed to cover an assortment of things; that she was still recovering, that Shinra was short staffed. That her mind was everywhere else but on the job.

She opened her mouth to speak but Rufus had already anticipated her question.

"Take as long as you need," he said, even if his eyes were suggesting to her that she shouldn't take that statement to the extreme. "Effective as of now."

"Thank you, sir," she nodded, rising from her seat. "Should I—"

"I'll inform Tseng when he gets back. Leave it with me."

_-x-_

"Need the time off to recover from last night, huh?" Reno smirked from behind his desk, feet propped up on one corner dangerously near his cup of espresso. Elena rolled her eyes and continued rummaging through her bottom desk drawer. "I have to say, I didn't think I'd be seeing you so early this morning, what with you having the constitution of a miniature moogle."

"We're not all hypochondriacs, Reno," Rude spoke up. He was watching Elena select various items from her desk and put them in a small holdall with a slight frown. "How long will you be gone?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," she replied. Elena had to bite down hard on her lower lip to retain her composure. "I just… need a break."

"Is everything okay?" Reno inquired, his voice suddenly serious. "I mean, you're not… ill or anything?"

"No," Elena shook her head and turned to face her colleagues. "No, nothing like that."

"It just seems a bit sudden," Reno shrugged. He was looking at her seriously, his feet now placed on the floor. Elena sighed and zipped up her bag, letting it drop onto her chair. She could almost have blurted out the truth to him, so pressing was the need to tell _someone_ in order to release some of the soul-crushing pressure. And it wasn't as if she and Reno didn't share a closeness of sorts; one which usually involved taking the proverbial out of each other when, underneath, there was an unspoken gesture of understanding.

"Things have just gotten on top of me since the whole Jenova business," she managed, finding it only too easy to use Rufus' words. "I could use a bit of time to clear my head; to get away from things for a while."

Reno was standing opposite her now. Elena lowered her gaze, knowing that discomfiture was written all over her face.

"It's not a sign of weakness, 'Lena," he said quietly. Sometimes it was annoying how well Reno knew her; how well they all knew each other, which was precisely why it was so hard to leave. "Had things not been so hectic, Rufus would probably have given you more time off to get yourself together. Shit, we all know it takes a bit of time after something like that."

"Without question," Rude agreed.

Elena nodded and picked up her bag. Without warning, Reno wrapped his arms around her in a short but firm hug. "It'll work itself out," he muttered, lips close to her ear. She hadn't quite realised how comforting such contact with another human being would be. When was the last time someone had held her close, she asked herself? As Reno released her, she wondered what exactly he had meant by that remark. Had he twigged what was going on? She hadn't forgotten her suspicions about him on the previous evening. Or was he just trying to reassure her that she would eventually come to terms with what had happened with the Remnants? Knowing Reno, it could well have been both.

Elena crossed the car park briskly, thinking that if she were to hesitate one moment longer then she would never actually leave. She lifted her sunglasses to her face but before she put them on, her eyes were drawn to Tseng's usual parking spot. It was empty. She slowed her pace, recalling the cool, intimate interior of his car from the night before. It seemed like only minutes ago she had been sitting beside him, and now he was Gaia knew where. Miles away, probably.

She got into her car and took a deep breath. It took a surprising amount of strength to start the engine when her gut was demanding that she stay; that she not walk away from the things that mattered most to her. Her hand hesitated over the gear stick and then she grit her teeth, revved the engine and reversed quickly, wheels spinning on the gravel. She sped across the car park, narrowly avoiding an oncoming car which, as she passed it, she recognised as Tseng's. She didn't allow herself to question why he was back so soon and instead put her foot down despite how much it hurt. Her pulse throbbed tangibly hard and fast in her chest, neck and face as she forced herself not to look in the rear view mirror.

_-x-_

It was only after swerving instinctively to avoid the dark car powering towards him out of the Healin Lodge car park and along the adjoining dirt track that Tseng realised who it was. He skidded to a halt and, before even really thinking about it, jumped out of the driver's seat to watch as Elena drove away from him at an almost alarming speed, dust swirling behind the car. She was often impulsive but not reckless like that, and it unnerved him. He gazed after her long after her car had disappeared around the bend, totally aghast, his heart still pounding in wake of the initial shock of narrowly avoiding a head-on collision.

He got back into his car, his mind set on getting to the bottom of this. As far as he was aware there was no reason for her to be leaving the office that morning. And when he got hold of Elena later that day he would in no uncertain terms have a few choice words for her about her driving.

The Turk leader marched down the corridor to the office, keys clutched uncomfortably tightly in one hand. Reno was standing by the window when he entered, sipping at a cup of coffee. Rude was sitting in his chair, though it was pushed back some distance from his desk. They were, quite flagrantly, taking one of their unscheduled breaks.

"What are you doing back so soon?" Reno asked, not quite managing to mask his surprise.

"I forgot something," Tseng replied briskly. He approached his desk, remembering only now that Reno had asked that he had in fact returned to the Lodge to pick up his USB stick. "Where was Elena going?"

"You didn't know?" Reno frowned, almost choking on his espresso. Tseng stopped, one hand still inside his desk drawer. He narrowed his eyes.

"Know what?"

"She's taken some leave," Reno replied. "Escaped Edge for a bit. And I got the impression it's going to be for more than just a couple of days."

"What?" Tseng demanded, reigning himself in at the last moment. He picked up the USB stick, not bothered in the slightest whether or not he had the right one, and shut the drawer rather more forcefully than intended. "Who authorised this?"

"I did," came Rufus' voice from the doorway. "About ten minutes ago. I was going to inform you when you got back, which I must say is earlier than anticipated."

"I forgot something," Tseng repeated absently. So that was why he had bumped into Elena outside Rufus' office earlier. But when had she made the decision to take some time off? She hadn't mentioned anything yesterday. And then it occurred to him that it might have been _because_ _of_ yesterday that she had decided to go. Had he been too harsh on her? Or was it nothing to do with him at all? But if that was the case, what had prompted her to do this? Tseng exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. There were simply too many questions he wanted answers to.

"Did she say why?" he asked, realising at the same time that he ought to ensure he had the right USB device, else he would only have to come back to the office again. Which wouldn't look at all odd.

"She said she needed a break," Rufus replied. "After that last mission to the Crater. I owe her the time, so I didn't see why not now that we've got the terrorist situation under control."

Tseng nodded slowly, as if to suggest he was in complete agreement when, inside, it felt like something was going to explode. He kept thinking that he shouldn't have laid into her about Lara and Rufus, and that he should have been more supportive towards her when she was struggling to deal with things. Elena had hidden it pretty well, though. She had grown into the role of a Turk a lot since she had joined the group a little over two years ago. Back then, he used to be able to read her like a book and it made him realise now how difficult he had been finding it in recent months to work out what she was really thinking.

"Now, Reno," Rufus continued, turning to him. "I read your report from yesterday and wanted to go over a few things."

Tseng left the office and returned to his car, his mind still lost somewhere in a state of what he could only describe as shock. He had taken it for granted that Elena would always be there, even after he had almost watched her die at the hands of the Remnants. Now that she was gone _of her own free will_ – and who knew where and for how long – his feelings flared to the point that they were almost more than he could handle. He didn't _like_ not knowing where she was, much less that she had not said a word to him about it. Which meant, presumably, that she didn't want him to know where she was going.

Tseng drove the base of his palm against the doorframe of his car in sheer frustration.

_This is your own fault. Too wrapped up in your own hang-ups about being the perfect company man._

_If only she knew the truth_ , he thought resentfully. And oh the irony that it had been him who had denied her the knowledge of it, telling her the downright lie that he wasn't interested in her. And for what? For the sake of company loyalty.

How miserably insignificant that seemed now. He had made his choice, wasted the chance of a lifetime, and now that she wasn't there it was all suddenly so devastatingly clear that he wondered why he had failed to realise it before; to him, Elena would always come before Shinra whether he liked it or not. His loyalty to Shinra would never waver but then neither would his loyalty to Elena. He had been a fool to think he could ever change that, no matter how much more convenient it would have been.

And to think that Vincent had more or less laid this out on a plate for him weeks ago. To _think_ that Lara and Rufus had found themselves in a similar situation to his own, and the doctor had had the guts to go for it. _Or, knowing Rufus,_ Tseng thought with a slight smirk, _he just couldn't resist the temptation of living dangerously with a woman he privately mooned over for months._

Despite his job description, Tseng wasn't a man who chose to live life dangerously. Close to the edge was one thing but _dangerous_ equated to _reckless_ in his world, and such a trait did not make for an effective Turk Director. His job was about foresight, control and precisely executed skill.

Tseng sat in the driver's seat and exhaled slowly. His stomach was churning, his chest unbearably tight. The enclosed stillness inside the car was a close, personal kind of quiet, and a sharp contrast to the cold breeze outside. Clasping both hands around the steering wheel, he allowed himself a sideward glance at the passenger seat where Elena had been sitting not twelve hours ago. But there wasn't a trace of her left in the car. Even her perfume, which had lingered in the car last night, had dissolved into the artificial smell of carpet and leather.

Company loyalty wasn't all there was to this and Tseng could not hide behind it any longer. The real dilemma that had presented itself was whether or not he was prepared to risk everything for a woman he loved, but about whom he was more insecure than he cared to admit, even to himself. There were eleven years between them and, whilst that was fine now, would it be fine in ten years' time? Did she love him, or was he just a crush that would peter out once she had him? Elena was not a fickle creature, that much he knew; he could tell by the way she looked at him sometimes, in those moments where she let her guard down just a fraction, that she cared. Back at the observation base, she had looked upon him with so much concern as she crawled over to untie him when she was so badly injured herself. Anyone else might have pleaded with him for help, complained about the agony, deferred all responsibility to him as the superior; but she had asked him if he was all right.

She had taken a bullet for him, placing his life and wellbeing before her own. Had she done it for a fellow Turk – her boss – or for _him_? The only answer that he could dredge from the depths of his mind was that she had kissed him back on that afternoon with more feeling than anyone had ever shown him before. That he had to trust.

If he hadn't ruined whatever feelings Elena did have for him since, that was. She was strong-willed and determined, and Tseng hoped to the gods that he could rely on that now.

He found it grievously ironic that, after devoting so much energy to shutting her out in the hope of mercilessly quashing any affection between them so as to make his professional life easier, he was the one struggling to work out how Elena really felt. Tseng didn't suffer fools gladly, making it all the worse that he considered himself to be exactly that just then.

But what good was all of this sentimental honesty now? She was gone; he was here and she was somewhere else. Tseng started the engine, one foot hitting the accelerator hard whilst the other let the clutch out too fast. The car lurched unappreciatively and stalled. Heat prickled in the tops of his ears.

Perhaps it was for the best that Elena had left, he thought calmly. Time apart would allow things to settle back down to a point that was professionally manageable. He would just have to sweat it out of his system by the time she returned. _Yes,_ he said to himself, turning the key in the ignition. The engine purred back to life. _It's for the best. For both of us._

What did he have to offer her, anyway? A relationship that came second to their work, consisting of sordidly secret meetings behind the closed doors of anonymous hotel rooms, as though she were an affair that meant nothing more than those brief, disposable intimacies he had had in the past? Elena deserved more than that; more than he could give her. So much more.

_-x-_

Elena made the drive from Edge to Kalm in just over two and a half hours, which was something of a record. She had stopped by her apartment briefly to pick up some things, thrown them in a bag and left. She had driven just fast enough to make the journey intense, forcing her to concentrate on the road rather than on the myriad of unpleasant and conflicting feelings fighting for dominance in her chest. Her head was pounding from too much loud music in such an enclosed space.

She parked her car behind the inn in the main square. She wasn't even sure if there would be any vacancies but, for once, her lack of forward planning couldn't have bothered her less. Kalm was a quiet town not far from the coast and didn't usually receive too many foreign visitors.

As luck would have it, the main inn had several vacancies. Elena was about to opt for a single room when, as she withdrew her credit card from her purse, she decided that this was a special occasion, of sorts.

"I'll take the luxury suite," she said, putting her card down on the counter, her expression every inch the hard-to-please Shinra executive. The receptionist nodded quickly and began typing on her keyboard. Turk suits were well-recognised in Kalm, what with the town being Shinra's former back yard.

"Can I take a name, ma'am?" the small woman asked.

"Corneo," Elena replied, without hesitation. Each of the Turks had a pseudonym under which they would make reservations or orders and after Elena's run in with the pimp in Wutai, it had become hers. It was Reno's bright idea, naturally, and he had quite clearly taken great pleasure in seeing the look on her face when hotel staff in Wutai had addressed her as 'Ms Corneo' only hours after returning from Da Chao. Only then did she understand why he had been so keen to make the booking whilst she and Rude waited for him at the bar.

Elena collected the room key and turned, pondering what she would do next. The coast was only a short walk from Kalm and was an appealing idea. She was vaguely aware of someone coming down the stairs to the right of the reception desk, aware that he was tall and dark, but paid him no attention. He crossed the reception area, never really entering her direct line of sight, and disappeared from her peripheral vision.

"I must say, you're looking considerably better than you did the last time I saw you." Elena almost flinched. He had paused some distance away, about level with her. His voice was low, not much louder than a whisper, but still the nonhuman being under the surface was audible.

"Vincent," Elena replied, smiling a slow, controlled smile that disguised her initial surprise. She turned to face him and was greeted by those now familiar glowing eyes. When she looked at him now she saw kindness and integrity where she had once seen only Chaos. There was still a disconcerting volatility to those eyes but she knew better than to be taken in by it. Vincent had more than proved his worth to her.

"Here on business, Miss Corneo?" he raised an eyebrow. His mouth was concealed by the high collar of his cloak, rendering it hard to decipher his expression. Elena hummed a brief laugh.

"Not exactly," she said. "More of a holiday. What about you?"

"I move around a lot. You didn't fancy the Costa del Sol, then?"

Elena shrugged. "I'm not really in the mood for sun and happy holidaymakers."

Vincent made a short sound, somewhere deep in his throat, that Elena took to be a chuckle.

"Me neither," he said.

Elena paused. It was a strange feeling to be standing opposite him now when, not all that long ago, her battered body had hung agonisingly from his arms as he carried her out of what she could only refer to as hell. He had been so gentle, his eyes understanding, apologetic almost, as he had cleaned her wounds. She recalled waking once or twice, the hardness of the kitchen table numbing her muscles, the pain pulling her back to consciousness, to see him sitting beside her, keeping watch. A man she hardly knew, someone who had once been closer to an enemy than a friend, extending to her the courtesy of a fellow Turk.

No one ever really left the Turks. No one.

"I don't suppose I could buy you a drink?" she suggested. It felt a little awkward, inviting Vincent Valentine for a drink as though he were some casual friend she had known for years when he had once been the partner of her boss' boss. It was best not to think too hard about these things. "To say thanks. Or begin to say thanks, at least."

Vincent gave a solitary, expressionless nod, which coming from him seemed strangely enthusiastic, and gestured for her to lead the way to the adjoining bar.

_-x-_

The bar was filled with natural light from large, wood-framed windows that looked out onto the lush green landscape surrounding Kalm. Despite the dense blanket of rain clouds the daylight poured into the traditionally furnished room, lightening the atmosphere that would otherwise have been more akin to a smoking men's club than an undiscerning, inn bar. Large, yucca-type plants were placed between the windows, and at each end of the bar, thriving despite the combined smell of cigarette smoke and fresh coffee that hung in the air. The booths that lined the length of the room comprised of pine tables and benches backed with tufted green leather. As Elena approached the bar, having told Vincent to find them a table, she detected her PHS vibrating in her pocket. A weight sunk in her gut as she took it from her jacket.

To her relief, it was Dionne's name on the screen. As she answered the call, it struck her as something of a novelty to see her sister's name and not have to brace herself for an argument.

"Hey," she answered. "I thought you were on your honeymoon at last?"

"Oh, I am," Dionne replied. "But I thought I'd see how you were doing. And, you know, rub your nose in it that I'm living it up here while you're at work."

"How thoughtful." Elena was secretly pleased that more of her sister's old self was surfacing. For her, it meant that their progress was real. "I'm good."

That wasn't as convincing as it might have been, Elena thought quickly. She'd said it too fast, and just a little too nonchalantly.

"Elena?"

She sighed. Elena knew she wouldn't have gotten away with it. It wasn't a big secret that she had taken time off but for some reason she couldn't really bring herself to talk about it.

"I'm not actually at work," she admitted, her voice low. "I'm in Kalm."

"Is everything okay?" Dionne queried. Elena could almost hear her frowning.

"Yeah, Rufus owed me some time off. I've taken a break and thought I'd get away for a bit."

There was a short pause in which Elena suspected Dionne was thinking over what she had just said.

"Everything's fine, Dionne," Elena added, the lightness of her tone grating harshly on the utter despair she felt throughout every inch of her being. She kept seeing Tseng in her mind. Sometimes she would hear a voice in the background that made her freeze on the spot, her stomach turning a summersault, until the knowledge caught up with her that he was miles away; that the voice she had heard didn't belong to him, and on further listening didn't even sound that much like him. She might have left him behind but she was in no way free of the tortuous situation.

"I believe you," Dionne replied flatly. "Thousands wouldn't."

"Well, thousands don't count, do they? Listen, you enjoy yourselves and I'll speak to you soon, okay?"

"We will. Goodbye, Elena."

Elena exhaled and put her phone away, wondering miserably why life seemed particularly testing at the moment.

She arrived at the table a couple of minutes later with the drinks.

"Sorry about that," Elena began, putting one tumbler down in front of Vincent. "I had to take that call."

"Business?"

Elena sat down and drew her chair towards the table.

"No," she replied after a few moments. "It was my sister."

Vincent looked at her thoughtfully.

"Dionne, wasn't it? She was after my time, really, but I think we met briefly when I assisted Veld and Tseng with AVALANCHE, that time Veld called in a favour."

"Yes," Elena nodded. "That's her."

She took a sip of her drink and noticed Vincent's eyes over the rim of her glass. Was he actually _smiling_?

"Apple juice?" he raised an eyebrow.

"I know, not a Turk's usual choice," Elena replied. She still felt mildly intimidated by Vincent's dark presence, even if he was attempting a joke. "We had a bit of a heavy night last night. Well, _I_ did."

Vincent swirled the whisky in his glass, watching it with a glazed expression, as though remembering something.

"Veld didn't drink," he said. "Or at least I never saw him. I wasn't judging you."

Elena found herself gazing at Vincent's gauntleted hand resting atop the table. She nodded.

"So," he began, placing his tumbler down positively, thus prompting Elena to look at him. "Why are you really here?"

Elena managed a defeated smile of _Am I really that transparent?_

Vincent made no visible response other than tilting his head a fraction forward, his eyes still on her. Elena folded her arms across her chest, her hands gripping her upper arms and squeezing agitatedly hard.

"I'm here because… I don't have it in me to fight for what I want. So I'm learning to like what I've got."

Elena had discovered during the past two years as a Turk that while she might not have been able to completely curb her talkative nature, she could at least talk in a way that let less information slip.

Vincent appeared to take a few seconds to absorb what she had said.

"Profound," he replied. "And perhaps sensible. Learning to like what we've got is a virtue that could make many a person more content. However," he added, regarding her now with a seriousness that reminded Elena of a wild beast pondering its hunting strategy. It made her wonder if he was about to pounce across the table but, from what she had seen of him, Vincent was a well-mannered, eloquent being who probably reserved such behaviour for when he was alone. "If we all learned to like what we have the world would become a stagnant, wretched place where nothing ever changed. For better or worse."

Vincent sipped from his glass, glancing past Elena at people coming and going from the bar.

"And sometimes – with some people – you don't have to fight as hard as you think."

Elena cocked her head with a curious frown but Vincent was showing no signs of being about to elaborate on that remark. She recalled from the Turks' brief encounters with Vincent a couple of years ago that he had a tendency to be poetically vague.

"I wouldn't claim to know you well, but you never struck me as the type who gives up on what matters to her," Vincent added. "Not after you sent Cloud sprawling down the hill at Icicle Inn when you thought he was responsible for wounding your boss. He's a lot bigger than you are but that didn't stop you."

Elena grimaced at the memory. She had expected Cloud to duck, move, or even hit her back. Back then, the thought of him turning on her hadn't frightened her in the least she was so incensed about Tseng. It had been a reckless, emotionally-fuelled thing to do but no one would have said that she was a push over who didn't put up a fight. Reno had even laughed and ceased ribbing her for a whole ten minutes afterwards, when he heard from the two infantrymen who were with her what she'd done.

But things were different now. _She_ was different now. Elena felt drained and tired, worn down by the mentally wearing aftermath of what had happened with the Remnants. Worn down by the situation with Tseng. Many of the horrors her job brought into her life she could detach herself from when she went off duty. It was a skill very necessary for a liveable life in her line of work. But the last month had been especially challenging in that respect. Yazoo had crossed the boundary into her personal space, abusing her mind as much as he had her body. And then there was Tseng, who was so professional yet everything about him affected her so personally.

It wasn't as if Elena was unused to having to fight for what she wanted. Getting into the Turks had been a fight on numerous levels, and once she was in the door she quickly realised that she had won a battle but not the war. Being a successful Turk was a whole different ball game and one which she was not inclined to believe she had won yet.

With Tseng, however, it was different. He was a person, with his own thoughts and feelings. What if he didn't want her? Elena wasn't one of those women who could just shamelessly throw herself at whatever man she fancied. She had a sense of pride to uphold; a sense of professionalism, even. Tseng was someone she had the utmost respect for, as a person and as her superior, and in many ways she couldn't separate the two. Falling for him was okay but falling for her boss was not. And Tseng was every inch the Turk Director, a man who faithfully put his own morals and feelings to one side for the sake of Shinra. It had occurred to Elena that he must have felt something for her in order to have kissed her in the first place but she also knew that if that were the case, he was putting his interest in her second to Shinra. And she would have expected no less of him.

"Well," said Vincent, draining his glass and pushing his chair back a little from the table. "Thanks for the drink."

"If there ever is anything I can do to return the favour," Elena began.

"You're all right," Vincent shook his head. "I'm not really the debt-collecting sort. I don't think humanity really costs anything, does it?"

Elena gave a contemplative nod. "I guess not."

Vincent stood and tucked his chair into the table, hands placed on the backrest. "Besides," he said. "Tseng seems to consider it his debt."

Elena stared up at him. "He's… professional like that," she muttered after a few moments.

Vincent shrugged. "Yes, I suppose he is."

_-x-_

The second hand of the clock on the wall drew back a millimetre before jolting forward with a reluctant click that resounded through the deserted office. Tseng sat slouched in his chair, completely still, left ankle resting on his right knee as he glared at the clock on the wall behind Reno's desk. He made a dangerous picture with his eyes riveted sternly ahead of him, leaning back with his hips thrust forward, jacket falling open enough to expose his holstered gun.

Despite it all, he was overcome with a sense of such powerlessness that he felt driven to turn the vexingly harmless office upside down. The plant in the corner by the window just sat there, as it always did; the chaotic array of items on Reno's desk – pens, a couple of mugs, papers, a tub of hair gel –, and the orderly arrangement on Rude's; all of it was just _there_ , doing nothing, the same as it always was, when Tseng was struggling to believe that things would ever be the same again.

He wasn't a man predisposed to fits of rage so he remained steadfastly where he was, clock-watching. Reno and Rude had left to take their lunch break seventeen minutes ago and Tseng had not moved since.

He tore his eyes from the clock and looked out of the large windows to his left. The trees at the edge of the woods stirred softly in the breeze. The timber-panelled wall to the left of the window beckoned his attention, the exact spot where he had collared Elena not so very long ago.

But he was going to deal with this, as a man who was good at dealing with things; as a man who was employed to deal with things. Elena had so courteously removed herself from his vicinity and it was going to work to his professional advantage. He didn't have to like it, he told himself. He only had to deal with it.

His PHS, which was on his desk beside the computer keyboard, began to ring. Tseng picked up the device and scrutinised the screen. The number was withheld.

"Yes?" he answered curtly.

"Hello, I'm calling on behalf of B & V Security Services," a woman replied. Tseng settled back into his slouched position and raised an impatient eyebrow.

"What can I do for you?" he asked dryly.

"I'm responding to a complaint I've had about the Turk presence in Kalm."

Tseng frowned, wondering if this was some sort of joke. The woman sounded politely friendly, almost as though she were smiling.

"How did you get this number?"

She laughed at this. Somewhere in the background, Tseng could hear high-pitched squawking, like seagulls.

"I have my ways, Tseng."

His frown deepened. That laugh was not entirely unfamiliar, nor the voice come to think of it. But B & V Security Services? With his free hand he reached for the computer and keyed the company name into a search engine.

"Sort it, will you?" she said, this time in earnest. "The residents of Kalm would be much obliged."

There was a soft click and the line went dead. Tseng lowered his PHS from his ear and sat up in his chair as he found the company's webpage. From the information he gleaned off of the homepage, B & V Security Services provided clients with everything from close protection and covert surveillance to private investigation. But what was all this about a Turk presence in Kalm? Tseng clicked on the link labelled 'About' and discovered that the firm operated out of an industrial estate in Junon. More interestingly, though, B & V was short for Becker and Veinser. His eyes scanned down towards the short paragraph detailing the company history. The very first line offered Tseng the desired clarity.

_The company was founded four years ago by Dionne Becker and Yuri Veinser._

He let himself fall backwards in his chair until his back came up against the upright, shaking his head. Once a Turk, always a Turk and Dionne, it seemed, was no different. He _knew_ that voice was familiar.

Tseng thought back to the conversation they'd had at Elena's bedside a few weeks ago. And now this cryptic phone call, where Dionne had managed to speak her mind without even mentioning the subject directly. This made him smile a little. She hadn't changed, and Tseng didn't doubt Dionne knew he would do his research in light of such a call, given how thorough he was.

So Elena was in Kalm. It was a small town and if he so wished, finding her there probably wouldn't pose much of a challenge. Did she want to be found, he wondered? She had done a pretty good job of leaving without so much as a word to him. Since returning from his brief visit to a Shinra base just outside Edge that morning with a revised security schedule, he'd had to refrain more than once from calling Elena's number. What he would have said to her had he gone through with it, _if_ her PHS was even switched on, he didn't know. Reckless driving amounting to insubordination would probably have found its way into the conversation, if nothing else.

Knowing where she was only served to complicate things. Not knowing might have been uncomfortable to the extreme but it was easier for him that way. Much easier.

Tseng took a deep, resolute breath and reminded himself of what he had decided earlier. He would sit tight, get on with his work and sweat it out.

_-x-_


	17. Chapter 17

The waning crescent moon glowed pearl-white against the deep blue of the night sky. Elena lay in the middle of the bed, fully clothed except for her blazer, looking up at the heavens through the open skylight. The penthouse room was mostly in darkness, save for the moonlight entering directly through the window. Clasped upright in her hands resting on her stomach was the stuffed moogle Reno and Rude had brought her back in the hospital. Its orange pom-pom looked grey in the silver light, its little face saddened by shadow.

"You and me both," she muttered. She loosened her tie, undid the top two buttons of her blouse and closed her eyes, silently promising herself that she would get up in another five minutes to get changed. A bed as sinfully luxurious as this was not going to be wasted.

Just as she had been thinking how comfortable she was, and how much she really didn't want to move, there was a soft knock at the door. Elena opened her eyes but did not sit up. She hadn't ordered any room service, nor was she expecting anyone, so she remained exactly where she was. It was gratifying to be just a little bloody-minded now and again, especially as she spent most of her time not only taking orders but simultaneously giving every impression of being keen to do so.

Whoever it was, however, was apparently as persistent as she was loath to stir. She glared reproachfully at the door.

"I swear to gods," she muttered, swinging her legs round to put her feet on the floor and reaching for her gun on the bedside table. A Turk was never truly off duty, after all. Trouble didn't just wait politely for the clock to herald the beginning of a shift before pouncing.

Unlike her apartment door, this one had no chain and no spy-hole. She stepped up close to it, having made not the slightest sound crossing parquet flooring of the penthouse suite. Positioning her body close to the door to make it harder for anyone to barge in, gun in her left hand and concealed behind her hip, she opened it.

Elena very nearly gawped at the sight of the visitor standing in the hallway but got a hold of herself just in time. It should have been impossible, as much as a big, fantasy-indulging part of her had, on and off since her arrival at the inn, been idealistically visualising this precise moment in the knowledge that it would never happen. Only now it had.

Tseng was standing in the corridor, looking back at her expressionlessly.

For a few moments she was uncharacteristically speechless.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Elena was vaguely aware she was frowning in sheer bewilderment. Her mind was racing and she felt practically delirious. Had Tseng – her _boss_ , the stoic, iron-hearted Turk Director – just driven a few hundred miles from Edge purely to see _her_? She wasn't sure whether to be thrilled or peeved that he had somehow tracked her down. It was highly unlikely he was going to declare his undying love for her, which meant he was probably going to say something she would rather he didn't. So she remained as she was, standing sceptically behind the door.

Tseng's mouth formed a slight smirk.

"I could ask you the same question," he replied plainly. "Unless you're going to shoot me."

He gestured with a slight tip of his head to the gun held loosely in Elena's hand, which she had absently allowed to fall by her side as she peddled hard to come to terms with the fact that he was there at all.

"Right," Elena replied, a little breathlessly. "No." _Not yet,_ she thought as she stepped back and held the door open, gesturing for Tseng to come in.

As she shut the door after him, the room was plunged into comparative darkness as the light from the corridor was closed out. The entrance hall was on the narrow side and since Tseng had only moved a short distance inside, and Elena didn't want to push past him, that was where they remained.

"Did I wake you?" he asked, turning to her so that she was effectively caught in the modest space between him and the door. It was startling how intimate four to five feet could feel after the distance between them had seemed as good as endless when she had left Healin that morning.

"No," Elena shook her head. She reached for the light switch beside the door and Tseng suddenly appeared a lot closer than he had in the dark, even though she knew he hadn't moved. His eyes picked over her rumpled blouse and loosened tie. "I was just… relaxing."

Elena gazed at the floor with conviction as silence fell between them. She was poised to bombard him with frantic questions but didn't know where to start. If in doubt, the obvious was always a good choice.

"How did you know I was here?" She tore her eyes from the floor, forcing herself to look him in the eye and hold him there. "I didn't tell anyone."

"Didn't you?" Tseng raised a disbelieving eyebrow. Elena continued to regard him challengingly. "I received a complaint," Tseng went on smoothly, though Elena wouldn't have said he was remotely relaxed. She would even have gone as far as to say that he looked troubled, while he was doing his utmost to play the part of the smugly unaffected Turk. "Some helpful soul from an outfit called B & V Security Services rang me this afternoon, advising me that I should deal with the unnecessary Turk presence in Kalm." His mouth twitched into a contradictory expression of uneasy amusement. "So here I am, Ms Corneo."

Elena opened her mouth before promptly closing it again. Dionne. She didn't even want to think about what that meant. Suddenly, though, the questionable parts of their conversation, which Elena had been unsure of how to interpret back when Dionne had called by her apartment, began to make disconcerting sense.

That still didn't really answer the question of what he was actually _doing_ there, though.

"You left without a word," Tseng said suddenly.

"That bothers you?" Elena frowned, folding her arms. She was still holding her gun, having nowhere convenient to put it down. Its muzzle was now facing behind her, at least.

Tseng said nothing and turned his head to one side, shifting his weight. He brought his forearms up so that they were across his chest, his hands tensely gripping his upper arms. And still he didn't answer her.

"I can't deal with this anymore," Elena muttered. Something broke in her voice. "It's always one step forward two steps back with you – one minute you're interested enough to kiss me, the next you're telling me what a mistake it was, and ever since it's like you've gone out of your way to make me feel about this big," she gestured with her thumb and index finger. "Forgive me, Tseng, for not skirting around the issue anymore and sweeping it under the bloody carpet like everything else you don't like but I'm not going to—"

"It does bother me," Tseng interrupted her, his voice making up for in fervour what it lacked in volume. Elena broke off mid-flow, blinking a few times as though wondering if she had heard him correctly. "Why else do you think I'm here?"

Elena glared dumbly at him for a few seconds, then shrugged despondently.

"I really don't know," she replied. "To rap my knuckles for running you off the road earlier?"

"Oh, there's time for that yet," he answered with disdain, evidently unappreciative of her dejected sarcasm. He took a step towards her. "But we're not on the clock now so it can wait."

"So you do actually clock off then, Tseng?" Elena shot back. "Reno and I had a bet going that you sleep in a Turk suit."

"It has been known," Tseng replied, deadly serious. "Though I don't make a habit of it when I'm not involved in a pressing case. It tends to increase the dry cleaning bill."

The impromptu silence that followed left Elena's ears ringing.

Tseng swallowed and took a steadying breath. This wasn't how he had intended for things to be. Truth be told, he wasn't even one hundred percent sure what his intentions had been when he had made the drive to Kalm after leaving the office that evening.

"Why didn't you tell me you were taking some leave?" he asked levelly.

Elena didn't move. Not even to look at him.

Tseng edged closer still to her, at which point she looked up at the juncture where the wall joined the ceiling.

"I didn't plan on not telling you," she answered eventually. "You left before I had a chance."

"You practically walked into me on my way out of Rufus' office, Elena."

"And what did you expect me to say?" Elena retorted, gesturing frustration with her hands, and consequently her gun. Tseng's eyes never left her face. "I hadn't even run it by Rufus at that point. And it's not as if we're even bothering to talk all that much to each other anyway, is it? So what difference does it make to you, other than that you're a Turk down?"

"Elena—" Tseng began, closing his eyes.

"No," Elena cut him off, taking an incensed step towards him. "I'll tell you why I left. You might as well hear it." Never had she foreseen herself speaking so frankly to Tseng. It had taken her months to get out of the habit of addressing him as sir at the end of every sentence, and even now she still did so more than was strictly necessary. She had felt intimidated by him for months after joining the Turks and still found cause to on occasion. But things were different now; they were personal. Tseng had crossed a boundary when he had kissed her, no matter how hard the both of them tried to pretend that afternoon had ever happened, and ever since the lines had been blurred where they had once been so stark. But most importantly, neither of them was at work now even if they both were dressed for it.

Elena allowed herself a few moments before continuing. "I went to see Rufus with every intention of quitting," she started, trying hard not to blurt everything out in an unintelligible tirade of emotion. "I couldn't cope with it anymore. I'll admit things haven't been easy since the Remnants and… what happened, but most of all—" Elena stopped and bit down on her lip in an attempt to hide the fact it was quivering. She levelled her gaze at Tseng, who was watching her intently, hawk-like. "Most of all, I couldn't cope with you – with this – anymore."

She averted her gaze guiltily. It should have been a relief to finally get all of it off her chest, where it had been festering for weeks, but it wasn't. When he didn't respond straight away, Elena continued: "But I couldn't bring myself to say the words to Rufus: to tell him that I was resigning because it's the last thing I want. He seemed to guess something was up and told me to take some time off."

Elena noticed Tseng's eyes shift uneasily to the floor at this.

"I'll do you the courtesy of being straight with you, Tseng – for once, I won't be afraid or ashamed to talk about my feelings because I've realised during these past few weeks that life doesn't go on forever; _I_ don't have forever. I used to childishly think I had all the time in the world… but I don't. None of us do."

The depth of Tseng's gaze assured Elena that he knew to what she was referring. She had clasped her hands in front of herself and was smoothing her knuckles with the fingers of the opposite hands with bruising force in an effort to contain herself. It occurred to her then that whilst she might have been more talkative than Tseng, she found it no easier to be open about her feelings. Heat burned in her cheeks and ears and, not for the first time that night, it struck her with some force that it was Tseng, her boss, standing before her and that she was in the middle of pouring her heart out to him. At any other time it would have been so grossly inappropriate that she would cringe at the mere prospect of it. At this stage, though, she didn't see that she had anything more to lose by granting the convoluted situation a modicum of honesty.

"When I saw Yazoo about to shoot you in the back at the Crater I didn't even give it a second thought; you meant more to me than anything and covering you was probably one of the easiest decisions I've ever made, no matter how afraid I was. But you… things just fell apart after that mission and I didn't see that I had any other choice but to go. After I left, it did occur to me that you might get in touch with me or come after me if I meant anything to you, and I guess it was partly my way of forcing your hand, one way or the other. For better or worse, I had to know otherwise I'd never be in control of my life; I'd just be living in your shadow and that's no way to be. A year – six months ago, even – I don't think I'd have done it but… a lot's happened since then." Elena paused for a moment and looked up searchingly at him. "Now that you're here, though," she said glumly. "I still don't know what the hell is going on."

Tseng had, during the time Elena had been talking, advanced on her slowly. Without really thinking about it, Elena had taken a few steps backwards, unnerved by the concentrated stare of Tseng's eyes against his impenetrable expression.

"Why do you think I'm here?" Tseng replied, although it wasn't really a question. His voice was deep, unyielding.

"I have no idea, Tseng – you keep asking me when it's you who has to answer that. For yourself more than for me."

Tseng was towering over her now and Elena found herself forced to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. She edged back further, the fingertips of her right hand brushing against the wall behind her. Her heart was throbbing and she couldn't tear her eyes from the Wutain's.

They stood like that for what felt like a close eternity, Elena holding out for an answer of some sort, Tseng giving no indication as to what it was going to be. It was an electric feeling, as if there were some kind of pulsating charge between them.

The answer Tseng did have in mind was not quite what Elena had been consciously expecting at that exact moment. He reached forward, one hand holding her cheek, his fingers lacing into her hair as he pushed forward into her, his body forcing her back against the wall in a harried gesture that wasn't particularly gentle. Elena stared into his eyes, allowing him to pin her to the wall with the length of his body, one of his legs nudging between hers. His other hand smoothed its way blindly down her left arm until his fingers found her hand and worked their way into the grip she had on her gun. The weapon clattered noisily to the wooden floor but neither of them so much as blinked. They glared unblinkingly into each other's eyes, as though hypnotised into a silent war of wills.

Tseng leaned further into her until their faces were almost touching. With his fingers firmly entwined with those of Elena's left hand, he raised her arm and pressed it to the wall beside her head. Elena could feel his chest heaving against hers as he breathed, slightly out of rhythm with her own ragged breaths. Unable to resist the tingling heat between them any longer, she thrust her chin forwards and upwards and crushed her lips against his.

Tseng was pushing so hard against her that, for a few moments, neither moved. With her free hand Elena reached around him and placed her palm flat against his back, between his shoulder blades, holding him to her. The sleek texture of his hair and the fabric of his blazer underneath were so familiar yet so wonderfully forbidden, so much a part of him. She breathed in the deep spice of his aftershave and it was as if all the hurt and despair that had been building up inside her for too long was effortlessly forgotten.

Tseng shifted and Elena opened up to him, simultaneously taken aback and energised by the animalistic need with which Tseng ravished her mouth, probing as though seeking to discover and savour all of her, and commit it to memory. He was rough but loving and it felt so heavenly that Elena wondered if she might just die on the spot from the ecstasy of it all. His hand that had been holding the side of her head glided down to her neck, his thumb hovering on her chin before switching to her waist, caressing its way back up to rest just below her underarm for a few moments before moving slowly around her front, between their bodies, and cupping her there.

Quite understandably, it took Elena's lust-addled mind several minutes to resume semi-rational service. Jarred images of their previous romantic encounter flickered back to her, and following them the memories of the cutting desolation that had followed. Elena blinked as a tear escaped from the corner of her eye and lowered her head, breaking the contact with him.

"Tseng," she managed, her breath hitching. Tseng moved his attention to her neck and gripped her hand, which he was still holding to the wall near her face, ever harder. Elena writhed under him, struggling with herself not to give in to him. "Stop," she pressed, unable to free herself. She had always known it for a fact but it was still startling to physically experience Tseng's strength.

Tseng halted suddenly, bowing his head and relaxing his hold on her whilst still maintaining the same stance.

"I can't," Elena panted, closing her eyes and turning her head to the side. "Not if you're going to decide you're not interested again. I won't be anyone's plaything. Not even yours."

Tseng moved back slowly until the air could flow between them once more and their only point of contact was his hand on hers. He had promised himself earlier he wouldn't do this but he had responded to Elena's kiss out of pure, selfish desire. He _wanted_ her despite not wanting to allow himself to so much as entertain the thought. There was so much he longed to give her: security, affection, friendship, commitment, loyalty. And love. How many of those things he could really give her, and to what extent, Tseng couldn't even begin to say.

Elena was watching him with saddened, uneasy eyes.

"I'm sorry, Elena," he muttered forlornly. "I really am." He released her hand slowly and turned away from her. Placing his hands on his hips he exhaled a sigh, bowing his head. He then paced into the main room and sat down on one of the two chairs arranged on either side of a modern-style table made out of thick glass and pale hardwood.

"You asked me why I'm here," he began, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his open knees. Elena took a few small steps away from the wall where he had left her to stand at the end of the hallway, looking at him. "I tried not to come," he admitted. "And I almost succeeded. I finished up at the Lodge more or less on time and I was driving home. The main street in Edge that runs along the end of my own is being dug up and there is a set of temporary traffic lights there. The slip road to the freeway isn't all that far beyond the lights, and above that slip road is a new sign."

Elena was leaning on her shoulder against the wall now, surveying him without expectation; only dismay. Her lips were still that alluring shade of red that follows a ravaging kiss like the one they had just shared.

"The sign reads 'Kalm 190Km'. Your sister had called me only hours before and I was determined not to act on the information she gave me… but all I could think about, sitting there at that red light, was you. When the light went green I put my foot down – I never took the turnoff to go home. I just couldn't," he said, his forehead creasing a little as he wondered at whatever it was that had come over him back at those traffic lights. "Finding you here wasn't too difficult – this was the first inn I checked. I saw your car in the car park here and… well, it was that simple."

Elena didn't seem any brighter at this and Tseng sensed that only one part of what he had said had stuck in her mind; that he had been determined not to seek her out. And, to her, that must have meant he didn't feel for her; that he didn't want to feel for her.

"When I said I tried not to come, it's not because I don't care about you," he said. The sorrowfully sceptical way that Elena's face fell divulged her exact thoughts in response to that: _You mean you care about me as a Turk. As my boss._

"If anything," he continued, "that's why I've been so hard on you these past few weeks. In Edge, when Rufus asked for your help in dealing with the Remnants; yesterday at the reactor… All I could see was how vulnerable you were and the dangerous positions you were putting yourself in."

"We're Turks," Elena shrugged. She tilted her head so that it was resting on the wall above her shoulder, and crossed her arms as if to provide herself with some kind of safety barrier between them. It struck Tseng as ironic that they obviously had similar feelings for one another, yet neither could really bear to speak about them. "It kind of comes with the job description."

"I know," Tseng gave a nod. "But I suppose knowing it didn't change how I felt. I wanted to protect you… as if to somehow make up for that fact that I couldn't protect you from the Remnants."

"Tseng—" Elena started, knitting her brow sadly.

"I wanted to tell them where it was," he cut her off. "Even though I knew they would still probably kill us, I wanted to tell them where Jenova was so they'd stop hurting you. I feel so ashamed that I sat there and said not one helpful word when you were… in so much pain. Which is why this is so difficult – you make _me_ vulnerable; I find it hard to be professional around you. To act as I should."

Elena straightened, her hands coming to her sides. Never had she seen Tseng look quite so afflicted and, whilst it was humanising, it was also a little unnerving to see him like that. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and tell him that she didn't and never would hold it against him, to comfort him. Elena moved forward to stand before him, unsure of what to do with herself.

"Please," she shook her head. "Don't feel guilty, Tseng."

He cast his gaze downwards. It was written all over his angered expression that he couldn't help how he felt no matter how hard he was trying to maintain his self-control. Elena crouched in front of him, resting one elbow on her thigh and her other palm on the floor for balance.

" _I_ chose not to say anything to them. I made that choice. Yes, for a while, I wasn't sure if I could, especially when Yazoo—" Elena wavered, swallowing. She blinked slowly, righting herself once more. "But I just did. I'm a Turk. It's what we do." She broke off, looking up at him intently. "You and I both know that."

"Yes," he replied eventually, looking down at her. "And I more than admire and appreciate your dedication, Elena. You've put this job before your own needs constantly – you're more of a Turk than many before you ever were, and it seems we're more alike than I'd really realised."

Tseng was, in fact, completely taken aback by how similar they were underneath their virtually polar exteriors. She had displayed more vigour and resolution in the past month than he would previously have credited her for; she had made difficult, self-sacrificing decisions during the mission to retrieve Jenova, and she had later stood by Rufus with such unwavering loyalty that Tseng could only hope for in a subordinate. It occurred to him briefly, but no less bluntly for it, that maybe she also did not want to jeopardise her professionalism for the sake of any feelings she had for him.

However, he couldn't deny that he found her all the more attractive for the fact that she hadn't just rolled over and taken his behaviour lying down, as she would have done when he had first known her. She had grown into a woman who not only knew her own mind – that she had done since her childhood – but one who wasn't afraid to act upon it no matter how testing or uncomfortable it was for her. That much was confirmed for him by the fact that she had left. She might once have been a yes-woman, like so many others who entered into his company as subordinates, but she certainly wasn't anymore. Not when it came to matters that went beyond just following orders.

"But," he said, "as people – as you and me – not as Turks, I—" he shook his head. "I don't think it's something I will ever really forgive myself for."

Elena sighed. She had never envisioned Tseng ever having this conversation with her, and now that they were she recognised just how much they needed it.

"Maybe not," she nodded vaguely. "And that's up to you. But I want you to know," she went on, reaching out a tentative hand to touch his knee with her fingertips. "I want you to know that I forgive you. As a person, that is – as a Turk, there's nothing to forgive. I made my choice Tseng. And I wasn't the only one they hurt."

They remained in a quiet stillness for what seemed like a long time. Unlike before, though, it was somehow comfortable, even reassuring. They both would struggle with the memories and scars that mission had left them with but that they were struggling together was a strange sort of comfort.

Tseng lifted his hand slowly and placed it on top of Elena's, pressing it down on top of his knee, his fingers creeping up to her wrist.

"Do you remember when I asked you to dinner in the Temple of the Ancients?" he asked, his eyes smiling now.

"Of course."

"I meant it," Tseng said seriously. "But the situation escalated after that, which provided me with the chance to stop myself from overcomplicating things by falling for a subordinate in the same department."

Elena shifted, her legs numbing from crouching for so long.

"What are you trying to say?" she frowned. Tseng imagined that Elena had a fair idea of what he was trying to say but that she wanted him to spell it out for her; she wanted to hear him say it, to be sure after she had spent so long flailing around in the uncertainty he had caused.

"It wasn't a mistake the first time, Elena," he said plainly. "When I kissed you. I just told you it was."

Elena opened her mouth but no words came to her.

"Back in the helicopter, when Reno came to fetch us from the safe house in the Forbidden Forrest," Tseng explained. "You lost consciousness before I answered your question."

Elena sunk her gaze for a few moments, trying hard to think back to those hours she would rather have forgotten.

"You asked me if I meant it when I told you I wasn't interested," Tseng reminded her. "I didn't answer you straight away but when I did the answer was no. No, I didn't mean it." He exhaled heavily. "But by the time I said it, you'd passed out."

Elena nodded slowly. She remembered asking him and how nerve-wracking it had been to do so. It had taken so much physical effort to string the sentence together and, more clearly than anything else, she recalled not receiving an answer. It was something she had recalled numerous times since, in fact, and in retrospect she had automatically interpreted his silence to mean that the answer was yes; yes, he had meant it when he said he wasn't interested. She assumed that he simply hadn't had the heart to tell her so under the circumstances. Assumptions were dangerous, though, and that she knew from ample experience.

"Tseng… I—" Elena began incoherently, trying to gesture with her hands but Tseng tightened his hold on them, keeping them on his knees. "If that's true then… how did we get to this?"

Tseng met her gaze and, just for once, his eyes betrayed something of what he was feeling.

"Because I was afraid," he answered. Elena drew back a little, her eyes making rapid, tiny motions from side to side as she scrutinised his face with anticipation. His blunt honesty, even after all he had said so far, was surprising if also refreshing after weeks – _months_ – of smoke and mirrors. "We're Turks – I'm your superior, and that complicates things given the nature of our work. Which is why I've tried to distance myself from you, especially recently – to put distance between us. And I won't tell you it's been easy because it's been anything but," he shook his head, frowning. "I stopped myself from coming to see you in the hospital because it would have been unprofessional of me to invade your personal space; I was hard on you so that you would see me as no one more than your superior, a Turk without a personality – the man I'm paid to be. Someone no one wants to be with."

Elena made as if to speak, staring at him as though willing him to hear the answer that came to her mind: _And yet I want to be with you anyway._ Tseng's frown deepened and he closed his eyes.

"But it wasn't so straightforward. This… sort of thing seems to happen to me at the worst of times. I vow to be a company man who doesn't act on impulse or his own feelings, yet it seems I never quite get it right. I always over-compensate, one way or the other. With Zack, Aerith…" he looked up slowly. "With you."

"We've all fucked up trying to do the right thing by everyone at some point, Tseng," Elena replied. "There's rarely a win-win scenario for the Turks when it comes to something personal. We take the rough with the smooth and try hard not to think about it too much."

Tseng showed her a slight smile, one that suggested he was relieved to find that she understood as only an old school Turk could understand. Elena had matured from the green, idealistic trainee he had promoted on that day Reno dropped the Sector 7 plate. A wave of nostalgia churned in his gut, taking him back to the days where he didn't occupy that lonely, burdened spot at the top of the hierarchical tree; to the days where things had been clear cut and the Turks had functioned like a well oiled machine fashioned out of the straightforward, interlocking components that had been his colleagues. It had been a very long time since he had had a real Turk-to-Turk talk about things that only another Turk would understand. He supposed it was because he had a position and reputation to uphold, even to Reno, Rude and Elena who had become a close-knit group after the crisis that had befallen Shinra and the Planet it was still grappling to rule over.

"I know it's not an ideal situation," Elena continued after a few moments. "But didn't you once tell me that you thought it was character-building to do things you're not so comfortable with?"

Tseng looked at her in mild puzzlement before a slow, remembering smile softened his mouth.

"So the way I see it," Elena continued. "I feel what I feel and I can't change it – not unless I'm to leave the company, which I know now isn't an option for me."

"I would never expect you to leave, Elena; your loyalty to the company is more than clear to me. What you've given up to be here, not to mention what's happened recently: when you came to Edge at Rufus' request despite your situation; when you didn't breathe so much as a hint to Yazoo about Jenova's whereabouts; that you put yourself in harm's way so I could get Jenova's head back to the helicopter; when you covered for Rufus about his affair with Dr Stein – all of those were decisions that were made as a Turk, regardless of how difficult they might have made things for you. You remind me of myself in that respect," Tseng replied, shaking his head. "More than I can tell you."

Elena smiled modestly up at him. She had never dreamed quite big enough to imagine that Tseng would one day compare her to himself professionally, especially when she had spent so long seeking his approval while, particularly in the early days, rarely receiving it.

"But as much as I feel for you Elena – and I do feel for you," he went on, sliding the fingers of his hands between hers, Elena still crouching before him. "Our work, who we _are_ , means I can't give you what I'd like to and what you deserve. You're worth more to me than a dirty, secret affair."

A broad, scheming smile came over Elena's face that Tseng had rarely seen before, her eyes focussed daringly on his as she shifted her hands in Tseng's to grip him back.

"What were you expecting from me?" she inquired, head tilting to one side in a probing gesture. "That I'd ask you to jack it all in and run off into the sunset with me to settle down into a more 'normal' kind of life?" Elena raised her eyebrows as she waited for him to answer.

"No," he said eventually, an unspoken apology in his voice for inadvertently giving the impression he had misjudged her.

"That might have been what my sister wanted – and good luck to her – but it's not for me. It's not what I want," Elena went on. She rooted him to the spot with the intensity of her gaze. "We've both given up a lot for this job and I don't see that either of us is ready to leave it behind just yet. On the other hand, though, I don't think I'm prepared to just forget about this – about you and me."

"Which leaves us where, then?" he asked, furrowing his brow as he waited for the impending punch line.

"Compromise," she replied. Tseng narrowed his eyes, the beginnings of a hesitant smirk pulling at his mouth. She was doing a very good job of reminding him just why it was he found her so captivating. "What if I _want_ a dirty affair?" she said, suddenly serious. "So long as it's with you, you can call it what you like."

For what seemed like a very long moment, Tseng made no reaction at all. He stared at Elena, who was showing signs of becoming anxious at his stonewall expression.

"We don't live standard lives, Tseng," she muttered with an uncertain shrug that was intended to be convincing. "So why should our relationships be the same as everyone else's? It doesn't mean… I'd love you any less."

Elena was close enough to witness Tseng's pupils shrink rapidly to focus on her as he was jerked from his thoughts. And then he was suddenly even closer, using his grip on her hands to pull her up and forwards, drawing her onto his lap. Before Elena had the chance to feel remotely awkward about straddling him, his arms slid around her waist as his face shrank the distance between them and he engaged her in a kiss.

Her heart was fluttering in her throat, her body stiff with the initial surprise of it all, and in the realisation that she had just, albeit indirectly, told Tseng she loved him. His lips moved over hers with tenderness this time, his arms supporting her rather than hotly trammelling her as they had done earlier. Elena began to relax against him, leaning forward and tentatively holding his face in her hands.

"I take it that's a yes?" she breathed, barely breaking the kiss. Tseng smiled and reclaimed her lips, pulling her harder against him. Elena switched her grip to his shoulders to retain her balance, drawing her chin ever so slightly into her neck so that his mouth could only just reach hers; she inhaled quickly as if about to speak when Tseng placed a finger to her lips, silencing her.

"Stop talking, Elena," he muttered, moving his finger then to trace her lower lip. He made as if to kiss her again but stopped just short of touching her. "Yes," he said, his voice deep and not quite there, his cheeks flushed like she had never seen before. "This is a yes." Elena beamed at him, mostly in her eyes as his face was too close to hers for him to see very much else. She pressed forward only for him to lean back, smirking teasingly at her. She giggled and he knew then that she was on the way back from the dark place she had been for too long. Before she could kiss him he tightened his grip around her body and stood from the chair, bringing her up with him.

Elena curled her legs around his waist, laughing. Her exposed neck now level with his face, Tseng nuzzled her soft flesh, inhaling her perfume with closed eyes. As his feet came up against the end of the bed he leaned forward, allowing Elena's weight to pull them down onto the luxurious duvet with him landing on top of her. He propped himself up on his elbows to admire her lying beneath him, her stomach and chest heaving against his in anticipation, blond hair fanned out against white satin.

For once, she said nothing and took hold of his tie, twisting it around her fist with a few rotations of her wrist before using it to pull him towards her. He shifted his hips against hers as they kissed again, his hands weaving their way between them to yank her already slackened tie undone and draw it out of her shirt collar. Elena made a small, needy noise as his hands worked at her blouse, undoing the buttons and parting the fabric as he went, his hand drifting briefly lower in a teasing gesture before returning to her chest. His fingertips brushed lightly, knowingly, over the fresh scar on her anterior shoulder.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he muttered, voice thick with arousal as Elena dispensed with the last button of his shirt.

"How long?" Elena probed, unable to hold back a short gasp as one of his hands slid under her bra, moving around the back to release the catch. Tseng hummed a chuckle of _Wouldn't you like to know_. "Tseng—" She was trying to sound incisive but it came out as a voiceless, longing exclamation.

"Since Reno kissed you," he replied. Elena lifted her head at this, thinking back to the night in the bar where Reno had brought up the topic, remembering the severe expression to come over Tseng's face as Reno made his innuendos, wondering why she hadn't allowed herself to see it sooner. Probably because she was too busy feeling sorry for herself, she reasoned.

Again, Elena made to say something and, again, was cut off before she could start the first syllable. Tseng had switched his attention to one of her breasts and Elena's mind went blank, save for a heady feeling of euphoria and desire. She relaxed back against the bed, mouth in the form of an unspoken _oh_ , which elicited a chuckle from Tseng.

"So _that's_ how to get you to be quiet," he remarked, replacing his mouth with a hand as his eyes settled on her face.

Elena laughed breathlessly, arching a little towards him. "I don't think that'll work in the office, though, Tseng," she replied wryly.

"That's just too bad. It'll have to be for when I've got you all to myself, then."

Elena smiled.

"Say that again," she said, liking what she had just heard very much, and needing equally as much to hear it once more for good measure. "Don't think I quite heard you the first time."

Tseng cocked a doubtful eyebrow, grinning down at her as he placed his elbows either side of her face, his shirtless body pressing down on hers.

"Which part?" he teased. "I finally get you _all to myself_ , and here you are talking too much."

She giggled again and pulled his face down to meet hers with a hand at the back of his head.

"I'll stop now," she promised. "But I can't guarantee it'll be a completely quiet night."

Before Tseng could reply, Elena silenced him by claiming his mouth in another kiss.

_-x-_

It wasn't the first time Tseng had watched her sleep. They had shared a room on many an occasion, usually when working on cases that required long distance travel. On none of those many occasions, though, had they shared a bed. Tseng was a practised liar and even got away with lying to himself every now and again when it made life easier, but there was no denying that the fanciful temptation had crossed his mind before now, even if he had filed it away with those thoughts labelled 'inappropriate'.

It was most gratifying to know that the reality exceeded the fantasy.

The room was warming with morning sunlight rendered golden-yellow as it filtered through the heavy, cream-coloured curtains, creating an atmosphere that Tseng could only describe as celestial. And it really would have been, were reality not looming over the dawning horizon.

Elena was lying on her side facing him, naked body covered up to her shoulders by the sheet and duvet. Tseng reclined beside her, head propped on one fist with his elbow digging into the pillow. He eyed the clock on the bedside table for the tenth time, allowing himself a few minutes more with her before he got dressed. It was 5.30am and he had to be at the Healin Lodge by nine at the latest, even if he was in the habit of arriving an organised thirty minutes early. The world was not going to wait because the Turk Director didn't want the night to end.

He rested his head on his pillow once more, shifting himself down in the bed to curl an arm around her middle. An uncanny duo of tingling excitement and sheer contentment buzzed through his vessels.

"Tseng," Elena mumbled, without opening her eyes.

"Yes?"

"You weren't thinking of leaving without saying goodbye, were you?" She was smiling now, eyes still closed.

Tseng made a sound of amusement that was a rush of air out through his nose.

"Perhaps," he replied, tracing her cheekbone with a gentle finger. "But I was planning on saying hello again some time this evening."

"Oh, well that's all right, then," Elena grimaced, snuggling against him a little more. She opened her eyes, her expression brightening as she looked at him, appearing as though she were taking in and savouring the fact that the previous night had been every bit as real as it felt. Tseng kissed her on the lips, lingering a few seconds before turning over and sliding out from underneath the covers to stand up.

Just shy of two and a half hours later, he would get dressed for the second time in his apartment. Reno wouldn't be the only one whose notice yesterday's suit wouldn't escape.

_-x-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only the Epilogue to follow now, which will be posted within the week. Thanks for reading.


	18. Epilogue

_**Epilogue** _

It was hard to believe that only a week had gone by since Elena had last walked up the front steps to the Healin Lodge. It was with a private smile that she reflected on the past seven days as she swiped her keycard through the reader and palmed open the wood-panelled door in a routine of familiar movements. She had the sense somewhere in the pit of her stomach, for the first time since leaving the hospital, that life was genuinely getting back to normal after what felt like a very long period of turmoil that had been masquerading as a nightmarish normality. Actually, she corrected herself as she took another bite from her apple, things were better than back to normal; the situation had progressed to a point whereby normal service was resumed, and then some.

Elena was almost too absorbed in her newfound contentment to notice the scene in the reception area. She stopped, mid-step, the door swinging closed behind her with a loud click followed by the usual muted beep of the electronic lock resetting itself.

Sitting in the receptionist's swivel chair, with the chair's more likely occupant displaced into his lap, was Reno. He was rocking the chair idly from one side to the other whilst grinning flirtatiously up into the eyes of a young woman. Elena blinked, wondering why it was she couldn't remember there ever being a receptionist before she had taken leave. To cut costs, the regular security personnel had manned the desk on a rotating schedule. Elena wasn't sure what it was that made her think this woman was a receptionist; perhaps it was the thick-rimmed, designer glasses paired with the freshly pressed, open-collared white blouse of a new employee who was trying to make a good impression that gave it away. Or perhaps it was that she clearly wasn't a Shinra soldier, nor was she a Turk, which left only the possibility that she was a desk clerk of some sort. She was too much a part of the furniture, quite literally, to be a visitor; even Reno wasn't that forward. She had an arm draped around Reno's neck and was smiling dreamily back at him. Reno, it seemed, had not lost his touch with regard to seducing company secretaries.

"Good morning, Elena," Reno addressed her, evidently not in the least bit fazed by her arrival. He spared her a glance that feigned a welcome and Elena took the brief, overdone smile he flashed her way to mean that she was to disappear so that he could devote his full attention to more important things.

"Reno," Elena replied levelly, as though she were merely passing him in the corridor. She resumed walking once more, the high heels of her boots clunking on the wooden floor. Normal service, it seemed, was resumed in every sense of the word.

As she reached the Turks' office, Elena found herself suddenly anxious at the prospect of seeing Tseng. She might have woken up with him in his apartment that morning before coming into the office via her own home, but encountering him at work for the first time was always going to be strange.

"Elena," he intoned flatly as she crossed the threshold, barely within his line of sight. Rude was at his desk, ramrod straight as always, sipping at a mug of coffee. He glanced up at her with a nod as Tseng spoke.

"Tseng, sir," Elena replied, striking her usual balance of respect and seriousness. "Rude."

"It's good to have you back. I trust you've had a restful week?" Tseng raised an inquiring eyebrow. He didn't once break his gaze from his computer screen as he spoke.

"I have, yes," she said, unable to hinder a muted smile. Tseng's dark eyes switched wordlessly to her for a few moments, divulging nothing. It was hard yet oddly pleasing to believe how differently they had looked upon her only an hour ago, from a distance that was less than a quarter of that which separated them now.

"Good," he replied. "Because you're going to need a fresh mind to get through that lot." He directed a brusque nod towards the two sizeable stacks of files and papers on Elena's desk.

"By the end of the week?" It was shamelessly optimistic, she knew.

Tseng pulled a smirk that reached right up to his eyes.

"By tomorrow afternoon."

"Right," Elena nodded once, sitting down abruptly in her chair. Talk about crashing back into reality, she thought soberly. Even after the events of the past week, Elena detected a slight chill run down her spine at Tseng's professional detachment. As close as she had become to him, there was no telling with Tseng whether his demeanour was pretence or reality. That was probably one of the reasons he made such an effective Turk. Elena had expected no less of him; she might have been something of an idealist at heart but it was through that particular trait that she had learnt to be very much a realist when it came to her working life. Elena spared a glance over at the inscrutable façade that was the face of her lover and breathed a shallow sigh. At least it kept things fresh and interesting this way, she supposed.

Several hours later and it was as if Elena had never been away at all. The four of them were at their desks concentrating on various bits of paperwork, some more dutifully than others, naturally. It was during quiet periods like this that the Turks had a chance to catch up on the administrative side of the job, although they never lasted for very long. There was always something or someone to keep tabs on and Rufus liked to have an ear permanently to the ground.

Elena had just opened the next folder in the overflow pile beside her in-tray when Rufus strolled into the office. He had had a busy day of meetings and it showed: he had shed his jacket and was thus stripped down to his grey waistcoat, his shirtsleeves rolled casually up to his elbows. He checked the white, ceramic-link watch fastened loosely around his left wrist as he moved to lean against the front of Reno's desk on one hip.

"Things are looking up," he said, folding his arms in a delicate, deliberate manner. "The investment deal with the last of G-Oil's shareholders has gone through."

Reno was the first to react, snorting an impressed laugh. "You actually got those guys to sell?" Rufus smiled in smug self-satisfaction, without turning to face Reno. "Of course you did," Reno answered his own question. "You're Rufus Shinra."

"Quite," Rufus replied. "Rufus Shinra who now owns fifty-one percent of G-Oil. Our dear old acquaintance, Mr Tuesti," he went on, dusting a fleck of fluff from his waistcoat with his index finger, "now stands at forty-four percent. So the monopoly on G-Oil together with the additional refinery sites we've already coveted will do just nicely." There was an ending to his sentence that was spoken only by the scheming glint in his eyes: – _in my quest for world domination._ Rufus might have been trying to make right his past wrongs but it could always be relied upon that he would go about it just as he went about everything: with calculating conviction.

"And Barret Wallace?" Tseng queried. He was leaning back in his chair, a congratulatory smile on his lips as he watched the President.

"He's not returning my calls," Rufus replied. "But it's always good to have a rival – especially an old one. It stops one from becoming too complacent."

"So you're not gonna try to muscle in on his oil investments?" Reno asked.

"Not for now," Rufus shrugged. "But never say never."

Rufus paced back towards the door. "Well, I just thought I'd share the good news before I call it a day."

"Never could resist an opportunity to brag, huh, sir?" Reno jerked his eyebrows up and down in a joshing grin. "But who'd blame you."

Elena always inwardly cringed when Reno joked with the President. Had he been anyone else she knew with certainty that he would never have gotten away with it. But Rufus, for all his affected aloofness, which to give him his due had calmed somewhat since Shinra's partial demise, wasn't above Reno's kind of banter. At least the redhead always wrapped it up with a deferential 'sir' for good measure.

"Oh, was it that obvious?" Rufus sighed, feigning disappointment. He seemed to be about to leave when he turned to the Turk. "Ah, one thing, Reno," he said suddenly, a teasing depth entering his tone.

Reno's attention visibly pricked as he waited for Rufus to continue. Perhaps he wouldn't be getting away with the joke, after all.

"My father and I might have disagreed on many things," said Rufus, his gaze going nostalgically out of focus for a few seconds, "and there was many a finer point about which he was mistaken, but I can say with some certainty that his policy on inter-staff relationships wasn't one of them." His eyes were suddenly engaged once more, and settled damningly on Reno. "Especially those within the same department."

Reno shifted in his seat, making it squeak. Elena was just thankful that the attention was on him as she felt herself pale in response to what Rufus had just said. She shot a surreptitious glance across at Tseng, who held her gaze for no longer than a heartbeat before shifting his focus elsewhere. Elena wasn't sure what it was about their unspoken exchange that drove a cold jolt of fear into her gut.

"I thought you'd relaxed that particular policy?" Reno replied, evidently taking some pains to avoid sounding like the smartass he was. "And Fran isn't technically in our department."

Fran, Elena had learnt since arriving that morning, was Rufus' new PA. It was her Elena had seen Reno with at the reception desk.

"She's close enough," Rufus replied. "And I'm sure I don't need to expressly remind you of current company policy, Reno. Inter-staff relationships are, at bottom, destructive and unconducive."

Despite that Rufus' unyielding gaze was fixed on Reno, Elena listened as though Rufus were speaking to her personally. Of course, it wasn't totally improbable that he wouldn't be saying the same thing to her and Tseng at some point down the line no matter what lengths they went to in order to ensure that the President never had reason to. Her eyes wandered in Tseng's direction once more to find him watching the exchange with his arms folded in what she would have said was silent support for the President's displeasure. Of course he was: it was his job as the Turk Director to enforce company policy within his department. Elena tried not to think, not to over-analyse when it was impossible to tell what Tseng was really thinking. She tried even harder not to give into the heavy feeling of insecurity that was growing with every syllable that came out of Rufus' mouth.

"Yes, sir," Reno replied. He knew when it was wise to admit defeat. "I'll sort it." Rufus gave a single nod in response and left.

"You mean you'll sort it with a booking for two in the Honeybee," Rude muttered, once he was sure the President was out of earshot.

"So what if I do?" Reno smirked. "I'll just have to be more discreet from now on. It's not like he can talk when he's carrying on with his _personal physician_ – and has been doing for who knows how long."

Elena blinked. So that was common knowledge now. She should have known it wouldn't take Reno long to nose around enough to discover the identity of Rufus' mystery woman. Information retrieval was one of his fortes, and not just in the professional sense.

"Just so long as you know you're treading on dangerous ground," Rude replied nonchalantly. "How do you know she won't drop you in it once you've done something to upset her, which you inevitably will?"

It occurred to Elena in that moment that Tseng had placed a great deal of trust in her; if she were to let slip, by accident or otherwise, what they had been up to for the past week – to let slip that they were in a relationship – there was a fair chance that things would be unfathomably worse for him, professionally speaking, than for her. That wasn't to say that the repercussions for her would be any less damning, but Tseng was the one who had the furthest to fall.

"Ye of little faith," Reno shook his head, although his grin wasn't as self-satisfied as usual. "I'll take care of it, just like I always do. Worst that'll happen is he'll fire her for breaching company policy. I'm the more valuable employee and Rufus knows that, and he knows I know that. He just likes to throw his weight around now and again to remind us all who's in charge around here. Fran's just a bit of fun, anyway. It's not my fault he hires PAs who tick all my boxes."

Rude snorted and resumed typing at his keyboard. It wasn't the first time Reno had had 'a bit of fun' with a company receptionist.

"It's your funeral," Rude crooned sarcastically. "Never underestimate the value of a good PA, Reno."

"Yeah, you said that last time. And the time before that, and the time before that." Anticipating that Rude was about to say something else, Reno jumped in first: "And don't you start with the whole 'Turks are just PAs with bells on' idea you spouted last time. I am _not_ dispensable." Rude closed his mouth with a shrug that echoed his last remark: _It's your funeral_.

Reno swatted a lazy hand at his partner. "Chillax, it's fine. It's not like I'm at it with another Turk, or some other such hanging offence."

Their repartee came to a halt as Tseng rose from his chair and headed for the door, a file clasped in one hand.

"Not going to tell on me, are you?" Reno asked suddenly. His cocksure tone was betrayed by the smallest hint of genuine worry in his eyes. Rude gave a shake of his head, containing his amusement behind his computer screen.

Tseng paused, hard-soled shoes chafing on the floorboards as he pivoted to flash Reno a narrow, exasperated glance of _What do you think? As if I haven't got better things to be doing._

Elena waited to catch his gaze but Tseng turned once more, as if deliberately evading her, and disappeared.

_-x-_

Thoroughly tired from the kind of boredom that only a day of paperwork could bring about, Elena closed the document she had been working on and put it to one side. She had done almost half of the pile that Tseng had instructed she do by the following afternoon. The clock on her laptop signalled that there was only half an hour left of her shift.

Reno and Rude were working quietly at their desks, as was Tseng sitting across from her, the top half of his face only just visible over his monitor. She had only to close her eyes for a fraction of a second to see that same face above hers, intimately close, the weight of his body pressing down on her, the soft caress of his breath on her lips as he held her in his arms. Elena shook the memory of the previous night spent with him at his apartment and returned to the present.

Tseng had taken a working lunch and they hadn't exchanged more than a few insignificant, work-related words since Rufus' brief visit of a few hours ago. Elena had been descending into an increasingly troubled frame of mind ever since as she tried to work out if Tseng was having second thoughts after his quick exit from the office earlier. It wasn't that she had expected him to treat her any differently at work in light of their personal relationship – it was always going to be a tentative situation, Elena was under no illusions about that – but after Rufus' attitude towards Reno's casual fling with a PA, Elena very much doubted that Tseng wouldn't have experienced some degree of uncertainty, just as she had.

With both hands she raked her hair back and held it there for a second, deciding she could do with stretching her legs. A coffee break was what was needed, she thought as she got up from her chair and made her way to the door. Elena made a conscious effort not to let her gaze stray even remotely in Tseng's direction, as tempting as it was.

As she left, Tseng turned his head to the side, giving the appearance of looking down at the floor when his eyes followed her from the room.

A kitchenette was located further along the corridor, shortly before the bend around which Rufus' office was located. Elena watched the coffee percolating in the machine, her arms folded across her chest as she leant against the counter. By the time she broke from her thoughts, most of which were centred around the dreadful possibility that she and Tseng were going to be right back at square one after that afternoon, the beverage was more than ready. She sighed, added some milk and took a long sip.

She wasn't sure how it was that Tseng was one of less than a handful of people in the world whom she implicitly trusted, yet she spent so much time trying to work him out. Something told her that she ought to have been trusting him now; that he wasn't someone who went back on a decision once it was made. But this wasn't any ordinary situation, for either of them, and today, now that Elena had returned to work, was the first time it had really become a reality since their first night together in Kalm a week ago.

Elena drained her cup rather hastily, too uptight to sit there and savour the drink in silence. She put the empty cup in the sink and began to head back along the corridor to the Turks' office. As she reached the doorway of the kitchenette, she was aware of a door closing somewhere up ahead but didn't think too much of it. Whoever it was was now coming towards her along the hallway, footsteps moderate and rhythmic on the boards.

She looked up to find that it was Tseng. Even from a distance Elena sensed the intensity of his gaze and returned it, staring back at him equally as hard. As they drew closer Elena got the impression that he was undressing her with his eyes; they moved from her face, lowering gradually down the length of her until they reached the floor. Again, though, she found herself uncertain when his eyes left her. When she looked at him, at his immaculate suit, she could not help but think of the body it concealed underneath. The feel of his skin, the ridge of the scar Sephiroth had left him, and a few others besides, the scent of his flesh, the contours of his muscles and the way he moved; it was all so vividly there when she saw him.

As he came more or less level with her, Elena parted her lips to say something – _anything_ – to make him look at her rather than at the floor, but he continued on his way as though she wasn't even there. Elena slowed her pace almost to a stop, trying and failing to resist the urge to turn, feeling like her stomach had just dropped out through a hole in her gut. Her collar was suddenly too tight, her tie strangling.

Before she could pivot fully, a firm hand closed around her left bicep and pulled hard, jerking her off balance as she was wheeled round and thrust forward in the direction of the wall. Only, she realised as her viewpoint was unceremoniously changed, it wasn't the wall but the door of the storage cupboard on the other side of the photocopying room, held open by a dark-sleeved arm. She didn't resist, knowing on an instinctive level that Tseng wouldn't hurt her even if her conscious mind was taking a moment or two to catch up. If anything, the unexpected experience was something of a thrill.

She would have stumbled forward under the force of the action had Tseng not guided her suddenly in the opposite direction and back towards him. Elena bumped up against his chest as he closed the door with his other hand. She tilted her face to look up at him, unable to see very clearly in the relative darkness. He had both hands on her arms then, preventing her from moving backwards. Not that she had any intention of doing so, anyway.

"Tseng…" Elena half breathed, half nervously laughed. "Isn't this a bit risky?" She could feel the pulsing of his heart through her chest.

"Oh, this won't become a habit," he replied dryly. Elena fancied she could hear him smiling, such was his tone. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the dim light, enough so that she could see the mischievousness in his eyes. "Not while there are other people in the building, at least."

"Really?" Elena raised an eyebrow, her hand smoothing down the back of Tseng's arm to his elbow. "What about when there aren't any other people in the building?"

Tseng chuckled. "Well, that would be a different matter entirely."

He paused, holding her, and Elena sensed a seriousness about him as he stilled, face forming a deeper expression. They were virtually hugging each other and, in the moment's silence between them, Elena leaned forward further to rest her face against his shoulder. Tseng curled an arm around her back so that his hand found her opposite shoulder blade, embracing her properly. "The reason I've got you here," he began, lips not far from her ear, "is that things were said in the office earlier and I wanted to remind you that…" His speech slowed to another, brief yet somehow heavy pause. "I love you."

Elena froze against him, eyes widening. There was no 'reminding' her about it, she thought, for she knew with the utmost certainty that this was the first time he had said those words to her.

Elena drew her head back a little so that she could look at him once more, her stomach turning an ecstatic somersault. She did the only thing she could think of in response, her head spinning too much to give anything all that much thought at all, and kissed him, her previous anxieties forgotten.

Before she could get too carried away, for which there would be plenty of time later that evening, Elena broke her lips from his, her fingers smoothing lines back and forth on the stiff shoulders of his jacket.

"I'll have to be especially hard on you when we get back to the office," Tseng muttered. He had switched his grip so that his hands were holding her on either side of her ribs and he was showing no signs of being ready to leave. "All of this preferential treatment is completely inappropriate when we're on duty."

"Yes, it's very unprofessional of you to have dragged me in here like this," Elena agreed with him, a seductive challenge in her voice. "Wasn't Rufus just saying something about relationships within the same department?" She frowned through her smile, as though trying to remember some distant, inconsequential conversation.

Tseng unsheathed a devilish smirk and shrugged, moving forward to kiss her again.

"Let him."

_-x-_

~Fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Well, this is it – finally finished! I've loved writing this story, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it._
> 
> _This last instalment is dedicated to_ sincethelastday _: thank you for your faithful reviews and encouragement._
> 
> _Thanks very much to everyone who's left a comment or added the story to their favourites/alerts. Most of all, if you've got this far, thanks for reading._


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